Harry Potter, The Phoenix and the Serpent
by dragonflight
Summary: I have been working on the next chapter... Major writer's block has stopped my writing :( but I'm back soon! Fifth Year:New friends, Ancient prophesies, dangerous situations. Lot of H/new person, little bit of R/H... First fic!!
1. Letters and Percels

CHAPTER 1: LETTERS AND PARCELS  
  
And no nonsense from you. Understood?" Uncle Vernon's red face puffed and raged as he spoke.  
Harry had ignored all five minutes of ranting and raving; partly because he had better things to think about, and partly because he had heard it all before.  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he replied patiently, expelling a soft sigh of relief as he bounded up the stairs. He longed to go to Ron's house, to be with people of his own kind, but Dumbledore had insisted he stay with the Dursleys. He was extremely lonely here, and his uncle and aunt did not know of the things he had experienced at school last year. Nor would they listen if he tried to explain it to them.  
Hedwig glanced up sleepily as he entered the room. She clacked her beak and closed her eyes again.   
Uncle Vernon had been explaining to him that he was having business company over on Friday evening.Harry didn't know how he managed it, but every time his uncle had someone over, he managed to make his presence known. He often felt like Cinderella; tossed into the background as little more than a slave. He even had a godfather that had (almost) granted his wish… He had wanted so badly to get away from his uncle and aunt-- and his fat cousin, Dudley. But Sirius Black was still a wanted man, and Harry hardly got the chance to trade letters with him anymore, never mind actually live with him… And after what had happened last year, living with him was out of the question.  
He slumped back onto his bed and his head hit something so hard he almost saw stars. "What the…" he muttered softly.   
Harry sat back up, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and adjusting his glasses with the other. He looked down at the black parcel on his pillow.  
"What is this?" He mused, picking it up and turning it over once. "Hedwig, did you bring this?" He glanced at the snowy owl, but she was sound asleep, as it was mid-afternoon.  
The package had no markings, no letter attached, no writing of any kind on it.   
It was too early for his birthday; today was Monday, and his birthday was on Saturday. Usually his well-wishers sent gifts promptly to the date, not earlier. He wondered ruefully if he would even make it to his birthday this year…  
Harry rose and checked the door to make sure it was locked; wouldn't do to have one of the Dursleys come in and see what might be a wizarding item. Returning to the bed, he quickly unwrapped the package. The wrapping was made of black silk but the underside was silver. The material was cold to his touch, but he bet that if it touched his skin long enough it would be a warm cloak or something of the like.  
The item it revealed was a nondescript metal box of some sort, about three inches thick and twelve inches long.  
He popped the cover and saw a neatly folded letter peeking out from underneath more of the fabric. Unfolding the letter, he quickly scanned it and realized that it was from Sirius.  
  
Dear Harry,  
How have you been? Keeping busy, I hope. Our wise mutual friend says that you can go to your friend's house for the last week or two, but don't let it out that you're staying there.   
I'm sending you this present early because I am doing something this weekend. Don't worry about me, I'll be careful. However, don't send me any owls. I'll get one to you when I can.  
  
Harry paused. So, Dumbledore had cleared him to go to Ron's house. What exactly was Sirius up to anyway? Harry was especially uneasy about not being able to send Sirius a letter, but he understood the need for secrecy.  
He turned back to the letter.  
  
If your scar really starts to bother you, send an owl to Dumbledore. Hedwig will be able to find him, and he may be able to figure out what warning it is sending us. Anyway, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Give Hedwig a scratch for me. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't give her it in person.  
~Snuffles   
  
Harry paused a long moment, deep in thought. His godfather definitely knew how to peak Harry's interest. Was this Dumbledore's errand or his own?  
He reached inside the box, hoping the gift might give him a clue as to what Sirius was doing. He pulled out a set of slightly rumpled Daily Prophets, the daily wizarding newspaper. There were seven of them, one dating all the way back to the week after school ended. Hoping to catch up on some of the events in the wizarding world, he hastily read the headlines and glanced at the moving pictures. "Banshee Troubles Muggles in East London," (showing a wild lady with her mouth wide open, as if screaming); "Ministry Misses Apparation Bungle," (Harry did not want to look at that picture); "Ministry Commends Frugle For Creating Better Werewolf Potion," (Lupin would be happy about that one)…   
As he read, it slowly dawned on him that something was wrong with these articles. He searched through one paper thoroughly, looking for a word, a name, even a Commentary from a concerned reader… Nothing.  
No mention of any Dark Force gathering, of any Death Eaters brewing up trouble, not even the words "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."  
His world had chosen to ignore Harry and Dumbledore's warnings that Voldemort had returned, pushing them both aside on the basis of "funny turns" and "unkosher teachings." Neither of them had much power in the media anymore.  
He flipped through the papers again; disgusted that no one wanted to face the facts. After an examination of the Editor's page in a recent paper, he finally found the words he was looking for… but it was only someone commenting on how much the Ministry had succeeded since Voldemort's demise.  
His thoughts wandered to the events of last year. The Tri-Wizard Tournament, his stupid mistakes regarding a certain egg, Rita Skeeter's articles, the Trophy, Voldemort's rebirth, Cedric's death…  
He shook his head angrily, blinking to hold back tears. Cedric's death had been his fault. As much as his friends and teachers had told him that he wasn't to blame, deep down inside he knew that he was. He had long since tried to reason with the feeling, deciding to let it lie and perhaps time would soften the blow. But it still stung every time he thought of the tragic events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  
He pulled out the other contents of the box, rubbing his nose with his sleeve and pushing his glasses back up his nose. The inside fabric turned out to be a black cloak with silver lining. It glittered and sparkled as he admired it in the light, then the other object in the box caught his eye.  
He brought out a globe about two inches in diameter. The first thing he thought of was Professor Trelawney, the Divinations Teacher, and her looking ball, predicting his doom. But when Harry looked it over again, no foggy shadows appeared beneath the surface. It remained a constant steel color, and the only thing that appeared on its smooth surface was his own distorted reflection.  
Harry reread the letter and found no explanation of the strange magical sphere. Was it something obvious? Something that he should know about, but didn't because he had been widely ignorant of the magical realm until about four years ago.  
He decided to write to Hermione. Perhaps she would know a bit more about the situation in the wizarding world or the sphere.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
I miss you and Ron a lot. Dudley's still on his diet, although I must say it's helping him a lot. He's already lost three pant sizes. How are you doing? I'm okay, I guess, just lonely.  
I got a package from Snuffles today. He sent me my birthday present early because he's "doing something this weekend." I'm not sure whether to be glad that he's actually doing something or to be anxious for him.  
Anyway, he sent me an odd globe as a present, but I can't figure out what it is. It's about two inches in diameter, and quite heavy. My first thought was a looking ball, but fortunately it wasn't. I think I would have thrown it out the window if it were… Do you know what it is?  
Snuffles says that I can go visit Ron for the last week of vacation. Can you come? I'll see you there.  
~Harry  
  
He sealed it but didn't send Hedwig off with it because she was still asleep. Harry really wanted to know what the globe was, but he didn't have any books or such that would explain it.  
"Come down if you want dinner, boy!" Aunt Petunia called up the stairs. Harry sighed, but quickly put the box and its contents into the topmost drawer, left the cloak hanging on the chair, and went down to eat. 


	2. Birthday Surprises (Sorry about the corn...

CHAPTER 2: BIRTHDAY SURPRISES  
  
Friday evening came-- and went without a peep from Harry's room. He could not believe his luck: no house-elves splattering dessert across the floor, no people blowing up to extortionate proportions… It was almost too quiet. Harry had taken it as his birthday gift from the Dursleys, and decided that it was the only gift he would get from them, so he'd better enjoy it.   
At eight thirty Uncle Vernon's guests had left. That was half an hour ago, but Harry was still up, trying to do his Potions homework, which consisted of a one scroll document on the uses and characteristics of mirthwodle, a plant used in many potions. With a sigh, he flipped through another two pages in his Potions book, hoping that something else would pop out at him.  
Harry jumped as something tapped the window. He glanced around; Hedwig was fluttering just outside the window, something tied to her leg. He quickly opened the window and let her inside, and she hooted softly at him, knowing that if she made too much noise she would get him in trouble. He had sent her off after supper on Monday night, and apparently Hermione had sent his birthday present along with her responding letter.  
  
Harry,  
How are you doing? I'm fine. My parents and I are vacationing in Spain. While there aren't as many famous Spanish wizards and witches as in France, they still have a few interesting ones.. They've even got a few curses that are native to Spain! The food here is very good, too, if a bit too spicy for mum's taste.  
I think Snuffles is off on a scouting mission; from your letter that's what it sounded like. I think he'll be fine. He always could take care of himself…  
I have no clue what your sphere is. Did you check in all your books? I've been checking mine, but I haven't found anything mentioning that sort of globe. Really, I wouldn't worry about it too much. Snuffles wouldn't have sent you something dangerous, and you can always ask him what it his when you get his next letter.  
I'll see you at the end of the summer; only one week away!   
With Love,   
Hermione  
  
Harry smiled, then put the letter down. He rose and locked the door. If there was one thing he liked about this room, it was his privacy.   
Before he could open her present, two more owls shot through the window. The smaller one zipped around the room once before landing on Harry's bed. The larger brown barn owl put his package down and perched on the back of a chair. It looked at him expectantly before acknowledging Hedwig, who had woken when the other two came into the room. Harry pinned the small owl, Pigwidgeon, down with one hand and grabbed the package he had brought. It was rather small, but it had to be because Pig couldn't carry anything large. Attached to Pig's package was a letter with Ron's handwriting on it.  
Harry wondered suddenly where Errol was. Errol was the Weasley's family owl and he was very old. He could no longer make long journeys, but Ron often sent him on them anyway.   
The larger owl's package had a letter written in Hagrid's scrawling handwriting attached to it, and Harry hoped that Hagrid hadn't sent him any Monster Book of Monsters or something similar this year. It looked about the right size for a book, which worried Harry. Hagrid had a kind heart, but he also had the idea that everyone loved monsters as much as he did. In their first year, Hagrid had taken a baby dragon into his wooden house, nearly burning it down before Harry and his friends could convince him to set it free.  
He opened Hermione's gift first. She had cleverly managed to store a cake inside the box, and it hadn't been mashed into the side of the box, thanks to Hedwig's careful flying. On it was written, "Happy fifteenth Birthday, Harry!" Was he really only fifteen? He felt so much older...  
Harry pulled the cake out of the box and found that there was what appeared to be a magazine beneath the cake, wrapped so the frosting wouldn't smudge all over it. He took it out of the wrapping and a note fell out with it.   
  
Harry, I've subscribed you to this magazine. They actually have some updates as to You-Know-Who's where-abouts, planned moves, etc. The "Daily Prophet" doesn't acknowledge this magazine, probably because the "Prophet" is run by Fudge and the Ministry. I forwarded the magazine for this month and the next month, and told them to send them to you at school. I hope these will help you with your search for knowledge!  
~Hermione  
  
Harry rubbed his scar absentmindedly while he re-read her note. So Fudge was not listening to anything Dumbledore said anymore? Not surprising, since their fall-out last year, but something that Harry had been dreading. This only confirmed his first impression from the papers Sirius had sent.  
Harry quickly pulled out some paper and a quill.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
Thanks for the magazines, I think they'll be of help in the future. I can't wait to see you both. That cake is going to taste so good.. I don't think the Dursleys will ever get cake again, thanks to Dudley's diet.   
I'll have to look for that stone in the library when I get to school; I've already gone through all of my books, even Potions, looking for the stone. I hope Snuffles is okay.  
I'll see you in a week!  
~Harry  
  
Harry gave the letter to Hedwig, who clacked her beak and nibbled his fingers affectionately. "Go to Ron's house when you're done. I'll see you there." She swept out of the room on a cool back draft.   
He opened Ron's gift next. It turned out to be another book about Quidditch maneuvers and feints, but Harry didn't mind. The likelihood that he would be the Captain for the Gryffindor team this year was very high, and he would need to know tactics and such to pull it off. Ron, too, had sent a letter.  
  
  
Harry,  
I'm having a wonderful summer so far. Percy's being a pain (as usual), and George and Fred are devising new ways to send toilet seats home to Mum while they're at school. Bill is home for some much needed vacation time, but he'll be leaving the day after you come. Ginny's fine as well, and Charlie's written home saying he's having a wonderful time in Germany playing with his pack of rowdy dragons. Mum's not too happy about that, but he doesn't care. She really wants him home, where he's safe.  
I hope you enjoy this: it's kind of like Mah Jeng, or whatever the muggles call it... It's a blast. The squares talk to you when they get to know you, telling you where their partner is... You'll understand when you open it. Just don't let them get loud, or the Dursleys won't like it.  
I'll see you in a week. Dad decided to send you some floo powder, and he'll apparate to your house at four on Saturday. Can't wait to see you again!  
~Ron  
  
Harry unwrapped Ron's package, and listened for a moment to the box of tiles. "Gerroff!" "Move outta the way!" "Where are you?" He slid the box open and the tiles stood up and danced around, stretching. They reminded Harry of his wizarding chess set. He packed them up and sent Ron a thank you, which Pig took with excitement. He fluttered out the window and was gone with a whir of his tiny wings.  
The next package was from Hagrid. He had sent some of his jaw-breaking toffee, along with his little letter. Harry wasn't too happy with the appearance of the food, but he was glad that Hagrid had been thinking of him all the same. He sent Hagrid a letter back with the last owl, and then turned back to his homework regretfully, munching on a bit of cake.  
There was another scratching at the window, which he had shut after Hagrid's owl left. He glanced at the window, and there was a barn owl perched on the sill, waiting patiently for him. Her golden eyes moved slowly, watching his movements, and then she shuddered. He opened the window and she floated silently inside, a letter grasped in her talons.   
Harry took the letter from her and offered her a sip from Hedwig's water. She went back to the window and flew silently away, not waiting for a reply. Harry looked down at the envelope and opened it slowly. Inside was a list of items for the following term, and a short handwritten message in a flowing print that was oddly familiar...  
  
Mr. Harry Potter,  
This letter may have gotten to you late, but I want to wish you a happy birthday. I know it is hard to stay with your uncle and aunt, but they are your best protection.   
Voldemort is on the move. I'm not sure where he will turn up next, but it can only lead to something bad. Please write to me if you have any dreams or your scar hurts again, as this may help us find what Voldemort is doing.  
Snuffles is doing something for me, so please do not write to him until he writes to you. You may place him in an awkward situation if you do send something.  
~Prof. A. Dumbledore  
  
Harry stared at the words, wondering and thinking. His hand reached up to touch his scar, partially obscuring the letters. Dumbledore wanted Harry to write him about his scar…  
He thought back to last summer (was it only that far away) when his scar had woken him with a dream about an old man dying? He had thought it very stupid to write to Dumbledore, so he had written to Sirius. But Sirius had written to Dumbledore with this news, and had later told Harry to go straight to Dumbledore with another such incident if it occurred.   
Harry was suddenly too tired to work on Potions anymore, so he packed it all away and settled into his bed. His dreams that night were unsettling, but he could not remember anything of them in the morning, only the vague sense of being chased. 


	3. Back in the Burrow

CHAPTER 3: BACK IN THE BURROW  
  
In the week that followed, Harry finished his Potions homework, started his History parchment, and mastered the wizarding Mahjong, which became a favorite pastime in between bouts of homework.  
Saturday came, and Harry mentioned to Uncle Vernon that he was going to his friends' house at five. Dudley raced out of the room and hid, and Harry got a prompt scolding for mentioning this, but Harry could tell that they were glad he was going.  
"Well, is this man coming through the chimney like last time?" Uncle Vernon asked in a huff.  
"No, I'm going back by it though."  
"Ah, hrmm," he grunted, thinking. "Well, I hope it happens quickly, and that he repairs the fireplace before he goes." And that was the end of it.  
At five after five, Mr. Weasley Apparated into the Dursleys' living room. Dudley, who had been watching the television, squeaked and raced out of the room, holding his bottom. Harry pulled his trunk and cage into the room.  
Mr. Weasley held out his hand for Mr. Dursley to shake, but he shrank back from it like it was a snake. Aunt Petunia hung back in the door to the room watching Mr. Weasley's every move. "Well, Harry," the red-headed wizard said rather nervously. "We'd best be going."   
"I'll see you next year," Harry said to Uncle Vernon, who merely humphed in reply.  
Mr. Weasley looked like he was about to say something in the direction of, "Aren't you going to say good bye?" but Harry had already been through this last year. They exchanged knowing looks and the older wizard nodded. "Well," he said again.  
He moved the electric fireplace aside and Harry used a little of his Floo Powder on the empty fireplace. Harry tilted his luggage into the fireplace as it lit up with a green fire. Harry shouted, "The Burrow!" and flew through the many Floo-connected fireplaces to the Weasley's home.  
He stepped out of the fireplace this time, congratulating himself silently for keeping his balance. "Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, putting the lid back on a pot of some stew she was boiling. She hugged him, and Harry tried not to look too embarrassed. None of the Dursleys had ever tried to hug him, but then again, he didn't really want them to.  
George entered the kitchen and sniffed, then glanced around and saw Harry and his mother, with her back to him, hugging. Before he said hello, though, he dropped something into the stew. "Oy, Harry! Nice to see you here again!" He glanced at the pot on the stove and said, "Ah, Mum, I think your soup is overflowing!" She spun from Harry and pointed her wand at it.   
"Accio!" she called, and the blob that George had put into the stew came flying out at her. The boiling subsided, and she looked suspiciously at the soggy item in her hand. "Would you care to explain this, George?"  
"Er, well, no, I wouldn't," he replied and shot out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was about to follow him when Ron and Ginny came hopping down the stairs.  
"Yes! Harry, you made it!" Ron yelled, while Ginny just looked happily at him with a bit of a blush tinting her cheeks.  
"Yeah, the Dursleys didn't put up as much of a fight as last time. They were mostly hiding from your dad."  
Ginny smirked and said, "that should make Dad pleased. No one around here hides from him..."  
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley cut in. "Don't say such things."  
'Sorry, Mum," Ginny replied, but didn't look the least bit sorry.  
Harry glanced around. "Is Hermione here yet? She told me she'd come." Ron glared at him as if bringing her up was a bad idea, and then changed the look as Ginny glanced back and forth.  
"We're meeting her in Diagon Alley tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley supplied when neither child spoke up.  
Ron's eyes beckoned him upstairs, and Ginny nodded slowly towards the stairs.  
Harry dragged his trunk up while Ron took his empty cage. Hedwig hooted at Harry when he entered Ron's room, Ginny holding the door for them.  
"Hermione wrote me two days ago with Hedwig. She told me that she had a nasty scare in Spain by some Death Eaters. Thankfully, no one was hurt by them, but they were shouting that Mudbloods were no good. Got her really shook up, you know?"  
Ginny nodded. "Her letter rambled on, and she spelled things wrong. Do you think You-Know-Who was behind this, or that they're just playing because their master is back and they are the rising bullies?"  
Harry shrugged, setting down his trunk and sitting on it. "I haven't had any pains or strange dreams, if that's what you're asking. I really don't know what He's up to." He quickly explained the letter from Dumbledore, adding, "He said something about Snuffles but we'll talk about that with Hermione."  
Ron furrowed his brow, and Ginny shuddered. "Does your scar always tell you when You-Know-Who is thinking up some scheme?"  
"So far it's never done me wrong. It hasn't hurt me lately, hardly at all this summer. Just once or twice really bad, and maybe six smaller ones."  
Ron bit his lower lip, playing with a strand of reddish hair absently. "That means that He's planning something big soon." When they looked at him in confusion, he added, "Well, He's not exactly the type to sit around and twiddle his thumbs. He must be doing something."   
"But what?" Ginny whispered, genuinely frightened.  
Before they could launch into some endless debate, their mother called all three of them down to help set the table for supper.   
As Ron clumped down the stairs, Harry grasped Ginny's hand, making her blush. "It's okay, he can't get to you."  
"He got to me once," she replied, eyes wide.  
"He'd probably be after me more than you. I'm the one He just can't get rid of," he joked. Ginny didn't look too happy with this, but Harry couldn't say more because Ron had turned around at the bottom of the stairs and was waiting impatiently for them. Harry squeezed her hand to comfort her and let go, then hopped down the stairs.  
  
***  
  
He was standing on the sidewalk of an unfamiliar street, waiting for... someone. He wasn't sure who he was meeting, only that the confrontation would not be pleasant. His hands were shaking, his legs were cramping up, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.  
"Corey!" A whispered voice called from the shadows behind him.  
He turned to look at the girl shivering behind him, and hissed, "Arlé! You shouldn't be here!"  
"I'm not leaving without you Corey. You don't need to fight them now." She grasped his arm and looked pleadingly up at him with bright green eyes.  
"No. I will stand and fight for Mum and Dad. Get Pat and go!" He ducked under the outcropping of the store, out of the dim light.  
"Pat's dead," she replied softly, her eyes filled with tears, but he could see something strengthen within their emerald depths.   
"We're the last, then." He pulled her into a hug, but they both jumped back when a sudden noise echoed down the street.  
"This is it," he said to her, pulling out his wand and rubbing his legs wistfully.  
Arlé glanced up at him, and he noticed within her emerald eyes a glint of a red flicker.  
"You wouldn't," he said, appalled at what he saw.  
"To protect you, I will," she replied defiantly, and the red flicker became a steady glow.  
"You're not trained," he protested, and a shadow congealed behind her. "Lumos," he muttered, pointing his wand towards the shadow.  
The stooped figure crouching there stood up, framed in the glow of his wand.  
"Eric..."  
"You're dead, Corey. You and your sister will die just as your mother and father did," Eric sneered, holding his wand in front of him in defense. "The last of the Reed family, the last two with the weird little magic tricks."   
"They're not weird," he snarled.   
"They are. Thankfully, your sister there will never learn them."  
Eric pointed his wand at Arlé, and her brother glanced into Arlé's eyes. iThe first sign of her magic is within the eyes.../i  
They were almost glowing to contain her energy, but Eric didn't notice this.   
He knew the glazed look all too well; he had seen it in both his father and his elder brother's eyes. iIf they glow, you've gone too far.../i  
"And you would fight to protect ithis/i?" Eric spat at him, motioning at Arlé. "You can't possibly think she's got the Reed Power, can you?" Eric tilted his head, as if listening to something. "Ah, My Master says to kill you now. Which one first?" He laughed and pointed to Arlé. "The sister dies first!  
"iAvada Kedavra/i!" Eric shouted, and her brother flung himself at Arlé... A green light exploded all around him, and then just as suddenly, fire blossomed...  
  
Harry sat up in his bed, groaning loudly and clutching at his throbbing scar. Ron woke up with a barely stifled curse, and then realized it was Harry.   
"Harry!" Ron cried, then hushed his voice and whispered, "What's wrong? Is it your scar?"  
Harry looked around dizzily, sight tinted with the fire and the green light. Ron crawled out of bed and crouched next to him on the floor. "Harry?"   
He rocked a little, waiting for the pain to subside as the Dark Lord had his fill of the death that had just occurred. Who were they? Why did that Eric want to kill them? He struggled to catch his breath again.  
His vision cleared after a long moment, and shortly thereafter, the pain decreased.   
"Hey, Harry, do you want me to go get Mum?"  
"No," he groaned. He glanced up at Ron, still holding his scar with both hands. "I've never seen this in first person," he added softly as the pain slowly seeped away. "I've always been watching as they die...Never been the one to die..."  
"Harry?" Ron asked yet again, cocking an eyebrow.  
"I was there," Harry explained, still speaking softly. "I saw someone die, only I was inside this person's mind. I could feel what he was feeling..."  
"How is that possible?" Ron demanded, catching Harry's arm as he struggled to get up.  
"I don't know," he grunted as he struggled to his feet, but he had his own idea that he was not saying to Ron. What if his connection to Voldemort was deepening...  
Ron yawned widely, and covered it with his hand. "Sorry, Harry. But you disturbed my beauty sleep..."  
"Ron, you can go back to sleep." He could tell Ron was about to object, but a yawn settled him.  
"Okay... I'll see you in the morning." Ron took one last glance at him before climbing back into bed. Harry was glad Ron had decided against coming down to stay up with him; he couldn't sleep now, and he had to write to Dumbledore before he forgot everything...  
He grabbed a blanket, his wand, and a quill and paper and walked down the narrow stairs.  
  
Professor Dumbledore,  
I think that Voldemort is up to something... I had a dream where I was in someone else's mind, hearing their thoughts. It was a boy, older than me, but I can't remember his name. I think it started with a "C". He had a younger sister about my age, her name was Aryl, I think. They were running from a Death Eater named Eric, who had killed their family. Eric wanted to destroy something about the family line, some individual trait or unique magic. He caught up with them and he used Avada Kedavra on them, but I'm not sure who he got. There was a lot of fire there too, and that's when I woke up with my scar giving me pains.  
What does it mean? Why would He want to go after them?   
~Harry  
  
He sat back and read it, trying to keep the facts straight within his mind, scar sending an unpleasant buzz through his head. He folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket, then shuffled over to the kitchen to get a drink. As he did so, he noticed the Weasley clock, which told where each of the Weasleys were. Six hands were pointing on home, Mr. Weasley's and Charley's hands were pointing at Work and Away.  
He sank back into the couch, feeling suddenly tired by the whole swarm of thoughts in his head. Some time before Mr. Weasley came home, he was asleep, curled up on the couch, one hand covering his scar protectively.  
  
***  
  
Harry sat up straight, blinking the sun out of his eyes. Had he really slept the entire night on the couch? Apparently he had, and he could hear some noises coming from the kitchen, showing the ever bustling Weasley house in full tilt, but everyone was steering clear of the living room. He glanced down at his wrist out of habit but he no longer had any watch to tell him the time; the last one had been lost when he had worn it while swimming in the lake.  
He quickly hurried upstairs and dressed, scar pounding dully with each sharp move-ment he made. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and paused at the bright emerald eyes. iThe first sign of her magic is within the eyes.../i  
He closed them for a moment as the realization hit him: the dream was clearer now than it had been last night. He wasn't sure whether this was good news or bad news.  
He pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket and quickly replaced the name "Aryl" with the name Arlé, and paused as he glanced at the "C" name he hadn't remembered last night. He could remember Arlé's name, but not her brother's.  
And all he could think of were her eyes, the emerald depths, and their spiraling red... Who were they? Why were they so important to Voldemort? iWhy/i? 


	4. Diagon Alley

CHAPTER 4: DIAGON ALLEY  
  
Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the quaint little joke shop in Diagon Alley, to be confronted by a large hippo in a tutu, that promptly exploded and sent flowers raining down everywhere.  
"Ah, Harry, you're the first?" A laughing face punctuated by red hair peeked through the shower of flowers.   
"Rats," said the second Weasley twin, who Harry couldn't see. "We were hoping to get Percy with it..."  
There was a coughing noise, and a startled exclamation as someone came through the fireplace behind him and roughly collided with him.  
"Oy, Harry, move!" Ron yelped as they both tried to regain their balance. "Mum and Ginny are coming next!"  
Harry, on his knees in the mess of flowers, crawled through them in the nick of time; Ron was not so lucky. "Ouch, Mum! You're stepping on my fingers!"  
"Sorry, Ron," Ginny's voice called.  
"What are you doing on the floor...?" Mrs. Weasley tutted. With a flick of her wand, the flowers still falling were redirected to a safer place, although they were still piled ankle high.  
With a grunt, Bill joined the situation through the fireplace, bumping into his mother. He tried to slip around her, but nearly got poked in the eye with her wand, and almost lost his balance.   
Harry stood up, raising one eyebrow at the comical sight and trying to hold back laughter. Ron was half kneeling, half sitting in front of Mrs. Weasley, who had flowers draped in her hair, and Ginny was balancing on one foot, trying not to step on her brother. Bill's feet were almost hopelessly tangled in Ron's robes, and as Ron struggled to get up, Bill lost his balance and toppled Ginny over with him. Ginny, who had grabbed at the mantle in her panic of being dragged down, had accidentally grabbed a bottle, which slipped from her fingers and spilled all over Ron, Ginny, and Bill, turning them into newts.  
The proprietors of the little store were both laughing loudly at the scene; George buckled over holding his sides with laughter and Fred leaning up against the mantle of their fireplace, wiping away tears. "That was so good," he gasped between breaths.  
Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at her children, watching them squirm away from each other for a moment, and turned them back.  
There was a tense moment as Mr. Weasley came through the fireplace, but it was avoided by some quick Apparating by Bill and Mrs. Weasley.  
"What--?" He asked, glancing down at Ron and Ginny sprawled on the floor.  
"Don't ask," Harry replied, helping Ron to his feet while Mr. Weasley helped Ginny.  
A small white ferret wandered up to them, gazing at them with pleading eyes.   
"Please tell me," murmured Mrs. Weasley to George and Fred, deadly serious, "That this isn't a student. A Hogwarts student?"  
"Um, well..." George began.  
"You see, Mum," Fred stammered when his brother faltered.  
"Turn him back." She snapped, watching the little animal with narrowed eyes.  
"Ah, well, Mum-" Fred began slowly.  
"Turn him back." Her tone left no space for question.  
"Okay..." George said, and pointed his wand at the ferret, who shrank back from it. A burst of light exited his wand, and the ferret exploded into...  
"Neville?" Harry asked, grasping the smaller boy's arm and hauling him to his feet.   
"They offered me a piece of candy... I should have known..." Neville stuttered, looking around anxiously for his grandmother.   
Ron shuffled up to him and said, "My brothers are horrible, aren't they? Don't accept anything from them."  
Mrs. Weasley rounded on the twins as soon as she was sure Neville was all right. "I only let you have this shop because some person had the foolish idea to give you money to start it. If I catch you doing this to any other student..."  
"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked softly, trying to soften it up on the twins. After all, it had been he that ad given them the money to start the shop in the first place... "What time were we supposed to meet Hermione?"  
Neville squealed when he noticed his grandmother peering through the shop window, and with a rushed, "See you at school," he dashed outside.  
"At eleven." With a quick consultation to her watch, she turned to George and Fred and said, "Don't let me catch you two doing it again," shaking her finger at them. "We've got to go find Hermione, so behave yourselves."  
"Thanks, Harry," Fred murmured to Harry as he moved past him. "We owe you two now."  
Harry smiled at him, watching out the window for Hermione. An owl fluttered past and landed on the sign reading "Gred and Forge's Joke Shop," as he and Ron exited the shop together, reminding Harry of Hedwig. He had sent her off with the revised letter right after he had showered. He hoped his mentor would be able to understand the dream better than he had.  
Harry looked around, searching for Hermione's bushy head of brown hair, or Crookshank's bottle brush tail. Ron ran his hand through his red hair, almost knocking his elbow into Harry.  
"I wonder if she's going to be okay," Ron muttered as they walked down Diagon Alley.  
"Yeah, so do I," Harry replied. "I wonder if Malfoy will have heard of it by the time we get back to school."  
Ron's eyes blazed and Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. Ron had a rather personal vendetta against Malfoy, due only partially to the fact that he was a Slytherin Pureblood. Draco Malfoy continually mocked Ron's family because they were poor "Muggle-loving freaks." He continually taunted Ron with that, and he had taken recently to taunting Hermione as well. Harry was another of Malfoy's favorite taunts, but he didn't normally let it sting. He and Hermione had a hard enough time trying to hold Ron back from attacking Malfoy that if he let himself get angry over words, things could turn out rather ugly.  
"Yeah, well I'll show him this year," Ron snarled. "I'll make sure he won't laugh at us ever again."  
"Ron, you'd just be goading him on, and you know it. He won't back down because you beat him up, and with Vol--You-Know-Who--rising..." He let the sentence hang, not wanting to say any more.  
Ron's eyes went wide as he stopped and turned to face Harry squarely, saying, "I know exactly what Malfoy could call down upon us. You're a living example of that. I look at you--at your scar--and wonder how you could survive Vol--You-Know-Who's curse, and if you could survive it again. But I'm not going to cower beneath Malfoy any longer." He would have continued, but Ginny ran up and cried, "We've found Hermione, now we're going to Flourish and Blott's to get some books."  
"Is she all right?" Harry asked, as he and Ron exchanged meaningful glances.  
"Yeah, she looks all right, but she's quiet."  
However, when they approached the cluster of Weasleys outside of the bookstore, Hermione was speaking rather vigorously to Mrs. Weasley.  
She paused when she saw them, and something burst forth in her eyes that reminded Harry suspiciously of Arlé's emeralds. He backed away a few steps almost involuntarily, but Hermione didn't notice this, or if she did, she wasn't reading into it.  
"You have no idea how much I've missed both of you..." Hermione began, and her eyes glistened now as she pulled them into an awkward hug. It must have shaken her up a great deal more than she was letting on to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry reflected.  
"Come along, now," Mr. Weasley said, herding his troupe into the bookstore. "We'll catch up with you three later, in Fred and George's shop."  
"Do you have the globe with you?" Hermione asked softly as they moved away from the Weasleys.  
"No, it's at the Burrow," Harry replied, and Ron arced an eyebrow in confusion.  
"I got a globe from Snuffles for my birthday," Harry quickly explained. "He sent me a letter telling me not to send any more owls unless he sent one first."  
"Do you know what it does?" Ron demanded. He was rather anxious about the globe, seeing how trouble always seemed to find them in unknown ways.  
"Well, think about it, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "Snuffles wouldn't put Harry or us in danger. He must know what it is, or what it does..."  
"I think we should show Dumbledore," Ron suggested.  
"He might take it away from us," Hermione responded.  
Harry looked at his two friends, and wondered when they had changed opinions. Hermione was always the Let's-stay-on-the-safe-side-of-things type, while Ron was more of the Let's-use-it-and-ask-what-it-is-later type. "Well, let's check it out tonight," Harry said, and led them to the ice-cream shop.  
They sat down at a table outside to eat their ice cream, still guessing about what Harry's globe might be.  
"If I didn't know any better, Harry," Ron joked, "I'd think you liked Hermione more than me. After all, you told her about the globe and 'forgot' to tell me..."  
"Well, you're even now," Harry pointed out, "Because I haven't told Hermione about my dream."  
Hermione looked at him for a moment curiously and said, "So are you going to spill it now?"  
He quickly related the dream in full detail, surprised at how much he remembered of it. Hermione's eyes widened and Ron's narrowed as he recounted it.   
"And you haven't forgotten it?" Ron asked once Harry had finished. At Harry's negative shake of his head, Ron continued, "Then it must not have been a dream..."  
"Well, what else could it have been?" Hermione asked quite sensibly.  
"I.." Harry began hesitantly, still not sure if he wanted to tell them what he thought of it. "I think it's my connection to Voldemort--" His friends winced, and he corrected himself, "--You-Know-Who getting stronger."  
They stared at his forehead, like little first-years when they first realize who he is. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione didn't start babbling incomprehensible things like many of the firsties do.  
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked softly, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach out and touch the lightning bolt down his forehead.   
"No I'm not, but it's the only thing I can think of that would give me this sort of impression."  
"But if that's true, why did he just show you his death? Why not do something more powerful?" Ron asked.  
"It was enough..." Harry murmured, closing his eyes at the combination of memory and scar-pain that sprouted yet again.  
Hermione added, "What stronger thing could he do to bring Harry down than show him exactly how the victims died?"   
"He may not know he has this power over me... So let's keep it that way. Tell no one."  
Hermione bit into her cone and said, "But didn't you already tell Dumbledore?"  
"Yes, but he should know about this," Harry replied, finishing off his cone.  
"Where are we going now?" asked Ron.  
"We should go to Flourish and Blott's, I need to buy a few new books," said Harry, standing up and rubbing his scar a little self-consciously.  
"So do I," Hermione said, and they walked off, Ron still eating his cone. 


	5. Discoveries of Time (Here's where it get...

CHAPTER 5: DISCOVERIES OF TIME  
  
After supper that night, Hermione and Ron demanded to see this globe of his, so they clumped up the stairs and Harry pulled it and the letter out of his trunk.  
It glinted in the dim candles in Ron's room, but still and quiet beneath the cool surface was the matte black as Harry had seen the night he had unwrapped it.  
Hermione shook it and listened. No sound was heard except for a faint explosion from downstairs and a yell, which seemed to continue on for quite some time.  
Ron grinned. "I guess Mum didn't catch George and Fred putting something into her dish water."  
Hermione handed it back to Harry, who concentrated on it, staring into the seemingly impenetrable darkness within.  
Ron glared at it for a moment before announcing, "I don't like it. It's just too dark, like it's hiding something."  
"But what?" Hermione asked, biting her lip with concentration.  
Harry held it up and brought it near a candle, but it remained just as dark as before.  
Ron held out his hand and Harry placed the sphere into it, and Ron almost dropped it. "It's so heavy! It doesn't look as heavy as what it actually is."  
He turned it over and around in his hand, but he couldn't see anything that would even hint as to what it was. With a sigh, he handed it back to Harry.  
"It's really a mystery," Hermione sighed as well.   
Harry narrowed his eyes as his scar twinged, and he wondered what Voldemort was doing that would drag this out so much. Hermione gasped, and Harry glanced up at her.  
"What?"   
"It--flashed," she said with a stutter that was quite unlike herself. "What did you just do?"  
"I didn't do anything," he said back, looking down suspiciously at the lifeless globe in his hand.  
"Do what you were just doing again," Hermione insisted. "Think about what you were just thinking about."  
Harry didn't really want to go into detail about what Voldemort might be doing, but he did anyway.  
Hermione sighed in exasperation after a few moments. "Well, I don't know what else to think. It was reacting to your thought a moment ago..."  
Harry tossed it onto the bed, pushing his wand along the blankets, and sighed as well. "We'll just have to wait for Snuffles to explain it," he said, disappointed.  
The sphere flashed, and, as if in response to the globe, Harry's wand sparked.  
The trio stared at the sphere and the globe sparking together for a moment, and then Harry picked them both up, keeping contact.  
The sphere flashed as his fingers touched it, and to his surprise it was warm. After a few moments, the sphere let out a snippet of phoenix song that drew Hermione and Ron closer to him. And then with a flash of green light, the inside of the globe exploded outward with a series of images…  
  
"Run, Lily! Take Harry!"  
"I love you, James--" She ran, but stumbled just outside. A high-pitched laugh echoed through the neighborhood, and her panic increased. She cooed softly to the bundle in her arms, which had started crying loudly, and turned around to protect her only son...  
Another flash of green light--  
And the scene changed to that of a frail-looking woman cooking in her kitchen, tutting and stirring soup on the stove. "It's all right, Dudley, your food's coming," she called toward the dining room, where a large boy sat at the table. He looked about eight or nine, and was glaring at her back in between proclaiming his hunger and slamming the table with his fork and knife. A smaller skinnier boy was sitting at the other end of the table, glaring at the fatter one. His hair was unkempt and stuck out everywhere, and his glasses were broken at the bridge. The fatter boy began to levitate slowly, so slowly that he didn't even realize it at first. He began screaming, and the woman ran in from the kitchen with her spoon, yelling at the smaller boy. He dashed beneath her wild swings, the fatter one fell back onto his chair, still yelling. The smaller one dashed out of the room…  
Flash--  
The smaller boy was back, a little taller and a little less gangly, in a room with a checkerboard floor. He looked worried, standing between two large pawns that glared down at him. Across the board was a smaller boy with red hair, furrowing his brow in concentration. To his left was a girl with bushy hair and glasses, who was watching him intently, a look of horror on her face.  
"That's chess," he snapped at them. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me...that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"  
"But--"  
Do you want to stop Snape or not?"  
"Ron--"  
"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the stone!"  
He moved forward, and the white queen pounced on him, dragging him off the board, unconscious. Harry moved forward, and the king threw his crown at his feet. They looked at each other for a moment, then back at their fallen comrade. "We've got to go on," Harry said...  
Flash--  
The taller boy was standing beside the lake, watching some shrouded figures surrounding two smaller figures. A small flickering white light wisped out of one of their wands, and slowly faded, inadequate. The taller boy pulled out his wand, set his mind on a certain thought, and cried, "Expecto patronus!" A silvery light not unlike the wisps he had seen moments ago shot out of his wand and formed a large horse-like animal that flew across the water, driving the large shadows away from the smaller figures.   
The animal flew back across the water, hooves not even making the water ripple. The taller boy reached up to touch the animal on the forehead, and he stared at this stag in wonder and amazement. The stag dispersed into bright sparkles that fluttered around him for a moment, and then--  
Flash--  
The same boy, his legs quivering with exhaustion, staggered beneath a curse flung at him by a tall dark stranger with red slitted eyes, who drank in the cries of pain with excitement. "Do you tire of this, Harry?" He asked, his voice silkily deceptive, and released the boy from his wand. He staggered into the crowd gathered around them, and they pushed him back, as if repulsed by him.   
"I can end it quickly, Harry. Come, face your death," he mocked, eyes dilating with excitement. "Face your death like your father did..."  
The boy moved behind a large headstone, cowering and clutching at his head. His wand dangled almost uselessly from his hand, but after a moment's hesitation, he took it firmly and cast himself around the headstone.  
The two combatants shot their wands at the same time, and the beams connected into a single gold band. Strings of this band shot out around them, enveloping them within a circle of golden light.  
Flash--  
Older again, and perhaps a little better groomed, he stood, nervously toying with his wand. He was in the back of an empty classroom, waiting for someone. The door opened slowly, and she walked through, her body draped with a large cloak with a hood.  
"What do you want?" She demanded, hiding her eyes from him.  
"Why did you do that to him?" He snapped, all nervousness hidden suddenly beneath his passive face.  
"He deserved it!" She snarled back, pulling the cloak closer around her.   
"And now, I've got to go rectify the situation and deal with you," he growled, as if he were speaking to a little child who had taken her father's wand and turned her brother into a toad.  
"Don't talk to me like that."  
"And why not? When you're behaving like a spoiled rotten brat?!" He immediately backed up, his brow furrowed as he bit his lip. "I didn't mean it like that..."  
"Oh, really? How did you mean it, then?" Her eyes flashed within the shadows of her hood. They flashed red with fire...  
"Have you been doing that the entire day?" He asked, taking off in an entirely different path.  
"More or less, yes."  
He ground his teeth and grasped her left arm, pulling the sleeve up. "It's getting bolder... We don't have much time."  
Flash--  
A single sentence cried within a blaze of fire and green light: "Snakes don't like fire, and phoenixes do!"   
The phoenix song played on...  
  
Hermione was the first to break out of the trance the globe had flung them into. She leaned back against the wall as the last note of the phoenix song died away. There were tears in her eyes as she put her hand on Harry's shoulder.  
Ron had his eyes closed, trying to savor the phoenix music.  
Harry was staring at the sphere, his wand on the floor where he had dropped it. Apparently, his dropping it had stopped the sphere from shooting further into his future.  
Harry shook himself and reached down to grab his wand, being careful not to connect the two things again.  
"Wow," Ron whispered opening his eyes, and the other two nodded in silent agreement. 


	6. Hogwarts at Last

CHAPTER 6: HOGWARTS AT LAST  
  
"I'm so glad we're going back to Hogwarts," Hermione sighed as the Express hissed and started on its now-familiar track.  
"Why, so you can get to the library easier?" Ron retorted.  
"That may be part of it," Hermione replied, eyes twinkling. "But I feel more protected at Hogwarts than I do anywhere else."  
"I do, too," Harry seconded, but his mind wasn't really focused on his friends. He was thinking about the Time Globe, as he had his friends had dubbed it. He had puzzled over it a great deal during the past week.  
He was dying to know why he was hanging around with a Death Eater. Why would he care so much about her? And did it have anything to do with Arlé and her brother?  
Subsequent consultations of the Time Globe had given Harry a better understanding of the globe and how it worked. One could just put the globe next to any wand, no matter who was holding it, and produce a time line of sorts for the person whose wand was in question. Harry and Ron had mastered the art of "directing" the globe, but Hermione was having a harder time with it. Harry could "direct" the Time Globe to any point in his past, merely by remembering exactly where and when it was, and Ron could get it within a day or two of the memory.  
Ron's secret thought about Hermione was that she tried to see too many things at once, and often got caught in the middle of two varying dates.  
Unfortunately, neither Ron nor Harry could "direct" the Time Globe to show a specified time in the future. Hermione's explanation of this was, "Well, it's the future, and the future's always changing." The Globe had a hard time seeing into Ron's future, but Harry's future was always projected unless he stopped before he reached the future; each time it was projected, it was a different scene or two, many of which made even less sense than the one with the Death Eater.  
The best thing about the globe was that not once had Harry seen his own death. Even the strange one-liner had not predicted death, merely a lot of fire and a faint hint of the Avada Kedavra curse.   
He glanced up as the compartment door slid open, and Fred and George dragged their trunks into the car. George popped his trunk open and sighed. "We really hate to leave our Joke Shop closed until Christmas vacation, so we brought some 'free samples' for enjoyment."  
"Forge, did you forget to label which sweets are which?" Gred demanded, and smacked his brother off the back of the head. "Would any of you like to try Sweets Roulette?"  
"It's free," Forge added.  
"No thanks," Ron said, "We've done it enough over the past week to last us a lifetime."  
"Oh," George said, looking downhearted.  
"I've only turned into a ferret about five times," Harry added.  
"Why don't you go give you some of them to Malfoy?" Ron said maliciously.  
"Heh, he'd like that, wouldn't he?" Fred grinned and nodded. "So we will."  
  
***  
  
Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, a smile emerging and flowing to his eyes. It was so good to be back, so good to know that he had almost a whole year before he had to go away again...  
"I'm hungry," Ron moaned. "I hope the announcements are short, my stomach can't take it!"  
"Oh, budge up and stop thinking with your stomach for a minute," Ginny snapped, although her fingers were running around the edge of her plate just as anxiously as Ron appeared.  
Harry looked up at the staff table. There had been some seat changes from the last time he had been here. The person looking the least pleased with the seat arrangements was Snape, the sallow-faced Potions teacher who looked as if he hadn't seen a real good shower in the months since Harry had seen him last. To his left sat a tall gangly woman Harry had never seen before. He stared at her, wondering what she was like before nudging Hermione. He caught her elbow in his side in the same instant, and she turned and laughed. "Are you nudging me because of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? I've seen her somewhere before, but I can't recall where."  
Harry's mind flashed back to the Time Globe, and he whispered, "D'you think she was the one in the Time Globe?"  
Hermione stared at him for a moment, and then looked up at the table, an unreadable expression on her face. "See how she covers her left arm, right there, look!" She hissed after a moment, and as Snape leaned in and spoke to the new teacher, she did indeed cover her left arm as if protecting it.  
"What do you imagine Snape is telling her?" Harry muttered.  
"Probably telling her to watch out for you..." Hermione said, and tugged on Ron's sleeve impatiently. He swung around with an angry expression on his face and from across the table Ginny stuck her tongue out.  
"What?"   
"See that lady over there, next to Snape? She's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
"We think she's got a Death Mark," Hermione muttered. "See how she holds her arm?"  
"She's got some real company with Snape," Ron said, looking sideways at them.  
"Wonder where Professor Dumbledore is," Harry whispered glancing around the Great Hall. He didn't see Professor McGonagall, either, but he remembered that she was with the first years.  
"Maybe out there with the firsties?" Ron suggested, holding back a snigger.  
After a few minutes, Snape and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher seemed to have struck it nicely. She smiled at him and pushed her deep auburn hair back behind her ear with her right hand. Snape actually smiled back at her.  
"He sooo likes her," Hermione said, trying to suppress a smirk.  
Ron made gagging noises and Harry stared at her with an expression that said he'd rather be facing Voldemort.  
"Ewww, that is so gross!" Ron hissed. "Don't even suggest that, Hermione!"  
"How do you figure that?" Harry demanded, staring at them while trying not to stare.  
"It's a girl thing, we know when guys like us," she said secretively, and that was all they could weasel out of her.  
Ron glanced around and said, "Oh, look, Harry, there's Dumbledore!" Dumbledore was standing in one of the entrances to the Great Hall, speaking to someone shorter than him by only one or two inches. It was a girl, Harry could tell when he squinted, and something about her profile looked oddly familiar...  
Dumbledore waved his hand towards the Gryffindor table, where Harry and his friends were sitting, and asked a question. They walked into the room together, the girl still nodding an affirmative, and Harry recognized her. She had changed her hair color to a fiery reddish gold, but her green eyes were still the same.   
Hermione heard his gasp as the girl turned toward them and kicked Harry beneath the table. "Ouch, what?" He groaned, turning to her.  
"Stop staring!" she hissed. "Cho will get jealous."  
Harry blushed at the mention of his crush, but he didn't even glance around to find where she was sitting. "She's the girl from my dream..."   
Ron looked at him from the other side of Hermione, and asked, "Are you sure? I thought you said she was dead..." But he trailed off as she walked to an empty chair directly across from Harry, beside Ginny.   
"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asked softly, and looked imploringly at Hermione and Ginny.   
"No, go ahead," Ginny replied, kicking Ron from beneath the table to stop his staring. "I'm Ginny Weasley, and I don't think I've seen you here before."  
"No, I bet you haven't," she replied, her green eyes twinkling. "I was home-schooled before this year. I'm Erif Deerfleda." She ran a finger through her hair and Harry noticed a ring on the first finger of her right hand. It looked like a bird with a long neck and tail, but he couldn't make out much more than that before she moved her hands. The red gems on its wings sparkled almost the same color as her hair. "My parents decided last year that it would be better if I came here to Hogwarts to study for the O.W.L.S. this year. I guess I'll be staying here until I come of age," she finished sadly.  
Harry realized that she was lying. But why? Was she trying to hide herself from Voldemort? If she was, he would not break her secret, but he was dying to know how she had escaped that Death Eater...  
"Ron Weasley," Ron introduced himself, smiling lopsidedly.  
"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, offering her hand across the table.  
"Harry Potter," Harry said, and braced himself for the scream of recognition that most girls gave when they realized who he was.  
She was not like "most girls."  
"It will be a pleasure to work beside you, Harry," she said calmly, smiling a genuine smile that almost reached her emerald eyes. Almost, but there was still the edge of sadness beneath them.  
Dumbledore had walked past Snape and the new teacher and now stood behind his seat, ready to begin the Feast. The Great Hall quieted, and Harry knew that many people were thinking about their previous meal here, at which Dumbledore had toasted both Cedric and Harry...  
Professor McGonagall walked in with a line of scraggly-looking first years, that were quickly sorted out into the four houses: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. Each house was strong for their own set of values: Gryffindors, for their bravery, Ravenclaw, for their mind-power, Hufflepuff, for their loyalty, and Slytherin for their slick personalities.   
After the sorting Dumbledore held up his hand, and gradually, all cheers and congratulations stopped. "Welcome all, and I am so glad to be back here with you," Dumbledore began, his blue eyes streaking across the crowds, from the rowdy Slytherins to the quiet, reserved Hufflepuffs. "This year I am happy to say that we will be having our InterHouse Quidditch Championship, so I hope you have all been practicing over the break." He turned to the end of the table and motioned for the new teacher to stand up. "This is Professor Summer Bailey, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I hope you will treat her with as much respect as you would treat myself and the other staff members here." A smile split his beard as he looked at her, and a very large round of applause echoed through the Hall. Harry noticed that she smiled and looked down at Snape, who was smiling back. Indeed, her smile was contagious; many of the other teachers had at least lifted one side of their mouth as they watched her.  
As the applause died down, Professor Dumbledore continued, "You all know that the forest is off limits. It would do well not to be caught roaming alone anywhere, especially not at night. Although there is no curfew yet, I would expect you to take my advice seriously and stay in your Common room at night." He glanced around, his gaze stopping pointedly on Fred and George, who were sullen-faced at the thought of not being able to roam freely, collecting toilet seats.  
Above them, the ceiling, which had been full of dark clouds and distant rolls of thunder, sparked a lightning bolt.  
Harry looked at Erif as he noticed a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. She was staring up at the ceiling, her sharp eyes narrowed at the sudden downpour that never quite reached their heads.  
He didn't get a chance to say anything to her though, because Dumbledore smiled and continued, "Now, I know you're all rather sick of me speaking by now, so I would oblige you to eat your heart's content tonight." He walked around to Snape's side of the table while Harry and his friends dug into the wonderful dishes and drinks that were displayed in front of them. Harry could just barely make out that Dumbledore was speaking to the both of them before Arlé's head got in the way as she reached across for the plate of meats.  
  
After the feast, Harry got the password from a sixth year and they went upstairs, Ron slower than everyone else because he had a stomach ache. Harry paused at the bottom of the first flight of stairs waiting for Ron and Hermione to go up the narrow stairs first and he noticed that Snape and Professor Bailey were moving toward Snape's dungeons together, Snape holding the door for her as they swung through it.  
"You shouldn't have eaten so much, Ron," Hermione scolded, holding one of his arms as he hobbled up the stairs. Ginny was walking just behind them, holding back her laughter at her brother's predicament.  
"I've eaten more food than that before," he grunted, but he blushed a little. Ron was holding his stomach and trying not to pull a face. Arlé followed Harry up the stairs behind them, and caught his arm as she tripped on the invisible step, steadying herself.  
Her hand was so warm it was like he had dipped his entire arm into a steaming bath. He looked at her in alarm, and she smiled up at him a little sheepishly. "Oops," she said, and let go of his arm, trying to lever herself out.  
Harry grasped her right hand, prepared for the heat of her flesh, and was very surprised when his hand touched room-temperature skin. She hopped lightly out of the step and smiled at him, and he felt his insides melt. Cho had never smiled at him that way...  
He pushed that thought aside and hastily smiled back, silently determined that he would do as much as he could to make her laugh. Her eyes looked so much fuller when she was laughing...  
He glanced upward and saw Hermione's brown eyes staring at him. A thought, unbidden, came to mind: It's a girl thing, we know when guys like us...  
Harry looked away hastily and, to hide his sudden anxiety, he turned to Arlé and asked, "So when did you get sorted? Obviously not at the Feast..."  
"I was sorted just before the Feast. Professor Dumbledore decided it would be best to do it before rather than with the first years." She blushed a little, and Harry realized he was still holding her hand. He let go hastily, and wasn't quite sure what to think when she made as if to reconnect, and then paused.   
She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face, and then fled up the rest of the stairs, away from them. Harry made to follow her, but a tight professional female voice called him back. "Potter?" She asked, and as he turned, Professor McGonagall sighed. "I've been looking for you in the Common Room, but I was told you weren't in there yet. Would you please come up to Professor Dumbledore's office now?"  
Harry threw a wistful look up the stairs, but could not see a glint of Arlé's fiery hair, or of a pair of green eyes watching discreetly. "I'll catch up with you three later," Harry called to his friends, and followed Professor McGonagall. 


	7. Repressed Feelings

CHAPTER 7: REPRESSED FEELINGS   
  
She stormed up the stairs, angry with herself for letting him get that close, and paused only when she was inside the Gryffindor Common room. She sank into a chair, her eyes closed with the effort of keeping the tears back. She glanced to the side, and noticed with a sudden start how close to the fire she was. She quickly fled to a chair further from the fire.  
She almost didn't hear Hermione and Ron come into the room, partially because her heart was pounding in her ear and the Common Room was so noisy that it was hard to hear anything. Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up, hoping it was his green eyes she would look into...  
Brown. Regular ordinary brown...  
"Are you okay?" The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl asked.   
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied smoothly. Act like nothing is wrong...  
Hermione narrowed her eyes, but nodded and backed away slightly. "What classes are you taking? Ron, Harry and I have Transfiguration first tomorrow, you're probably with us."  
"I don't think so... Where do I get my schedule?" Erif stood and shook her mane of bright red hair out, wrinkling her nose as a nasty smell wafted around the Common Room. Hermione's nose crinkled too, but she smiled as Ron came up beside them.  
"That's the twins, making mischief," Ron commented softly, his eyes making Arlé suddenly conscious about her appearance. "I think they're going to outdo themselves this year, I really do."  
She looked around at Fred and George across the Room, who by the looks on their faces could have just won the Quidditch World Cup, and noticed that there was a faint smoke coming from behind them. Their smiles took on a slightly mischievous glint as they realized that she was watching them. They waved and winked at Ron, who was trying to hide the fact that he actually did like her. Erif sighed and turned back to Hermione.   
"I think your schedule is up on your bed. Come on, I'll show you around the place." Hermione grabbed her arm and before Erif or Ron could protest, they were up the stairs. "Wow, you're warm," Hermione commented softly, looking at Erif's arm in the dim light before the door to their dormitory.  
Erif glanced down and in panic noticed that the symbol was appearing faintly again, betraying her secret for all to see... Could Hermione see it?   
But she had just taken the potion before she went to the Feast! What had Dumbledore said about it...?  
  
"Arlé," he said, pushing his spectacles up his long nose as he looked down at her through them, "You have a very difficult life ahead of you. People will mock you because of your mark, and your circumstances will lead you to difficult decisions. Under no circumstances must this get around school, or Voldemort will find out and hunt you down. If any are to find out, you must contact me immediately..." He trailed off, his blue eyes telling her that this was no game.  
"I won't lie to them," Erif replied, fingering her mark absently. "And it's Erif now..."  
"It should not be seen," Dumbledore said suddenly, a frown creasing his brow in concentration as he glanced down at her mark. "I wonder why it shows so clearly... But we must find a potion for you to take, to hide it until the time comes to use it."  
"I cannot control it..." She replied, and he sighed.   
"You will learn, and I, Professor Snape, or Professor Bailey will teach you how..."  
But when?  
  
"I'm just feeling... stuffy," she said to Hermione, which was partially the truth. It was raining outside, and the rain always put a damper on her spirits. Snow was even more horrendous that rain, especially when it stuck and slushed... Perhaps her mark was coming back, but she would fight it as best she could and go see Dumbledore about it in the morning.  
Hermione led her into the room, and she instantly fell in love with it; the drapes around the beds gave a sense of privacy, while the couch by the window lent a homey feeling to the entire place. The shade of red that accented the entire room was actually the Gryffindor house color, cleverly disguised in vivid patterns of varying shades of scarlet and magenta.  
She slumped onto her bed, smiling to herself at memories. If Jeremie could see me now... She closed her eyes as she imagined her younger brother, who had never fully believed that they would ever get a chance to go to Hogwarts. But their parents had promised that they could go to study for the O.W.L.s in their fifth year, and Jeremie was only in his third...  
"So, I see you're taking all of Harry and Ron's classes, with only a minor deviation from one of them," Hermione commented, looking at the paper as Erif sat up.  
"Yeah," sighed Erif regretfully. "I've never been very good with transfiguration, so they backed me up a year or two. But I really don't want to move on with Divination." To tell the truth, most divinatory objects mostly showed fire in their depths when she looked within them, perhaps a representation of the Reed family traits...   
Hermione handed the papers over, and looked at her, something brooding in her brown eyes. "I was never interested in Divination. Maybe you can talk to Professor McGonagall, and she could change your schedule. You could take Muggle Studies or Arithmancy with me instead."  
"Okay, I think I will ask her," Erif replied, looking down at the paper without really seeing it.   
"Well, you've got a free period tomorrow, you can come down in the morning after she's done with our class." Hermione reached over to her chest and grabbed her folded paper off of it. "Oh, look," she said with disappointment, "We've got Snape after Transfiguration."  
"Is he a bad teacher?"  
"He plays favorites--or should I say that he hates us Gryffindors in general and Harry, Ron and I specifically, and that he likes the Slytherins..." Hermione narrowed her eyes at that thought. "And Malfoy especially, although I can't imagine why anyone would like that jerk."  
"Who's he?" Erif asked, although she had a suspicion that she knew who he was.  
"You'll meet him soon enough, because he's got a knack for picking on us. If you stay around us, you're likely to become the brunt of his jokes for a while."  
Erif nodded, and said, "It's okay, I can handle him."   
Hermione smiled and replied, "Yeah, we've mostly decided to ignore him. You'll learn why soon enough. Really, he's not as smart as Snape makes him out to be."  
Erif nodded, and rubbed her arm again self-consciously. With a hidden glance downward, she saw that there was only the faintest amount of design again, that no one would see what it was unless they were looking for it. Erif knew that Hermione had already made a connection about her mark. It was just a matter of time before she would confront her about it, and all hell would break loose if they were in a public place when it came...  
Erif would have to make it on her own time.  
  
***  
  
Harry stepped into Dumbledore's office, blinking in the dim light and barely acknowledging Professor McGonagall's hushed, "Sit down, Potter, he'll be in here shortly."  
Harry sank into a seat opposing Professor Dumbledore's desk and glanced around. Fawkes was looking a little on the fragile side, and Harry guessed that he would be reaching his Burning Day soon. But the phoenix lifted his eyes and floated over to him, a soft song echoing from him as his claws wrapped around Harry's extended arm. He blinked slowly, and Harry ran his fingers through his soft feathers.  
They sat there for several long moments, and Harry found himself blinking back tears from the memory of his last visit to Dumbledore's office...   
The Dursleys had not wanted to hear about his summer, nor about his friends and about his studies... They had basically shunted him, and he in turn had to shunt his feelings about what had happened during the previous year. Even his attempts at explaining it to Hermione and Ron had fallen short where his emotions were concerned, and although he couldn't remember any of the week or two that had followed the final Task, the events during the task shone clear in his mind.  
And now the events of Arlé's brother's death... Harry wanted fervently to speak to Dumbledore about this, to try and understand why this was happening to him. Would it happen again, or was it merely a one time happenstance?  
He jumped a little when the door creaked open, and Fawkes lifted his head from Harry's shoulder to look at who was entering. It was Professor Dumbledore, who was looking just as old and wise as ever. He set a long hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked past him toward the desk, comforting Harry with its weight. He sat down and Fawkes floated towards him, landing on the desk and humming softly. He looked at his pet, a smile brushing his lips as if something funny had just occurred to him.  
"Harry," Dumbledore acknowledged finally, looking from the phoenix to Harry. "Thank you for sending me that letter."  
"Professor, it was Arlé that was in my dream!" He exclaimed, wanting answers. "How did she survive?"  
He smiled at this and said, "Erif will tell you in time how, if you ask. But I cannot say at this time." His face turned grave again as he continued, "But I did not call you up here to discuss your dream, although I am thankful you were so prompt with explaining it and sending the message to me.  
"We need to discuss your godfather. When I sent him on his mission, he knew it was a dangerous one, and was ready to suffer the consequences if he were caught. Unfortunately, he was caught--" Harry interrupted him with a gasp, but Dumbledore held up his hand and continued, "And I sent our Professor Bailey to rescue him. She did, don't worry, but he was delirious when she had reached him."  
"Is he okay?" Harry asked, his green eyes narrowed with concern.  
Dumbledore raised his eyes and said, "We sent him to Lupin's house, so Lupin and several others of the old crowd could watch over him. He's recovering nicely, and while I cannot visit without arising suspicion, Summer has been down there several times, and she returned with good words."  
"But..." Harry trailed off when he realized that even if she did have the Dark Mark, Dumbledore probably knew it. Perhaps she was like Snape, a confessed double agent...   
Or perhaps not.  
"When can I see him?" He asked instead.   
Dumbledore nodded, and said, "I thought you would ask something like that. I would say right now, but circumstances being how they are, I cannot allow you to leave the vicinity of Hogwarts until we can be sure you will be protected from Voldemort."  
"Can he come here?"  
"Not until Lupin and Bailey declare him stable enough to make the long journey." Dumbledore stood and placed his hands on the desk, looking at Harry solemnly. "He has been through a terrible ordeal. The Death Eaters were not merciful on him, especially after discovering that he had revealed Wormtail for a Death Eater. He will be changed..."  
"Can I write him a letter?" Asked Harry hopefully.  
"Well, yes, but I'm not sure if he'd be in any condition to read it," the wizard responded softly.  
"I don't understand," Harry began. "What did they do to him?"  
"Every curse imaginable," Dumbledore admitted slowly. "What little Summer saw of their interrogation was horrible as she described it to me. I can hardly think how it would have looked if I had been there."  
Harry shook his head, looking down. "Why is everything that Voldemort does such a personal insult? What does he have against me?"  
"You were his demise; never forget that. Even though your mother died for you, the love surrounding you had reduced him to an almost harmless state. If you were able to actually use some of that energy to protect your friends and destroy him, you could very well destroy him. Otherwise, he would have come after your friends and lured you to him over the summer, and we would not be meeting at Hogwarts for school ever again.  
"But your friends are safe here, and safe anywhere else. They are actually safer than others within this school, if it comes to certain desperate measures. Just something to think about, Harry," Dumbledore advised.  
"You're sure they're safe?"  
"I have studied Voldemort's ways and reasoning from when he was still considered Tom Riddle. I can be reasonably sure that they are safe."  
"Good," responded Harry, feeling better about Hermione and Ron's friendship than he'd felt in months. And feeling a lot better about a certain someone who had captured his heart...  
He went back to the Gryffindor Tower feeling a great deal happier, but he was still distraught about Sirius. He was half expecting to see Hermione, Ron and Arlé waiting for him, but only Ron had stayed up for him.   
"Hey, Harry, want to play a game of exploding snap?" Ron asked as he approached.   
"No, thanks. Where did Hermione and Erif go?"  
"Up to their dormitory," Ron sighed between a yawn. "If only we didn't have Potions tomorrow, I could go to sleep without thinking that it's my last night alive."  
Harry looked at Ron's schedule. "Oh, it's even Double Potions with Slytherin! Why do we get put with them every year?"  
"They must think it's a laugh. You're sure you don't want to play?"  
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm going up to bed, I'll see you later."  
"Hey, wait up, I'm coming!" Ron said and followed him up to bed. 


	8. Lighting the Flame

CHAPTER 8: LIGHTING THE FLAME  
  
"Where's Erif?" Ron asked Hermione as they stood after the Transfiguration lesson, stretching. The students all around were standing and running out the door, but the trio were taking their time. After all, they were going to Potions with the Slytherins, and who wanted to be at that class early?   
Harry looked up at Hermione, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks, and then looked out the window at the sun-covered grass lawn before Hogwarts. He hadn't paid much attention to the lesson today; he hadn't missed anything important because it was their first lesson back, but his lack of attention would not go unnoticed in the next classes: Snape would wrongfully put the blame on his scar and humiliate him, and he wasn't quite sure what Professor Bailey would think.  
"I think she had to go see Professor Dumbledore about something. Besides, she's not taking our Transfiguration class anyway. She says that she's never quite gotten the hang of transfiguring things, so she's taking it after lunch with the third years." Hermione wrinkled her nose, and Harry knew that she felt that Arlé could do it with the rest of them. After all, if Neville could do it, there was no question that she could. "But she's coming to see Professor McGonagall right now, we can wait for her."  
Harry nodded, and said to Ron, "What does it matter if we're late for Potions? That means that it'll be that many less points he can take off from Gryffindor."  
"I know..." Ron said, and they all turned toward the door as a small figure came through. She was nearly bowled over by Neville's mad dash through it, but she laughed it off and let him pass before entering herself.  
Harry caught his breath as he noticed her red hair, and realized that it was brighter than yesterday.  
"Hi," she said to the three of them, flashing a wide, even smile. "Have a good class?"  
"Yeah," Harry responded, although he hadn't really remembered anything about the class except its longevity.   
"Oh, Professor," she called as McGonagall walked over to them, "I need to change something about my schedule."  
"What is it, dear?" Asked the female professor sweetly.  
"I really don't want to take Divinations... It's never fallen quite right with me." She looked up at McGonagall with her glittering emerald eyes imploringly, and McGonagall nodded.  
"All right, then," she said, walking back to her desk and grabbing a piece of parchment, "What class do you want to take?"  
"Muggle Studies with Hermione, please."  
The teacher scribbled something hastily onto her piece of parchment and handed it to her, and nodded. "Here you go. You'll need to go up to Divinations to tell her that you won't be taking her class. Now, hurry along before you're late." She shooed them out of her classroom as the students for the next class lined up outside.  
Harry couldn't stop staring at her as they walked, but thankfully he was behind her, so she didn't notice his blank expression. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand...   
She looked so different from last night; she seemed much livelier, fierier than before. Her sudden transformation made him wonder if she was more upset by the scene of her brother's death than she let on. He resolved to ask her about it the next time he could catch her alone.  
"So is this Snape the teacher you were warning me about?" She asked, her voice startling him out of his dream-like trance.  
"Yes," Hermione answered, leading them down the stairs toward the dungeons. "He's got a vendetta against Harry, so it may seem a little harsh."  
"I've seen harsher," she interjected with vigor, and the strange red light flashed within her eyes. The first sign of her magic is within the eyes...  
He shook his head; now was not the time to start sprouting some ancient legend...  
They entered the dungeons almost three minutes late, but to their surprise, Snape was not down there.  
"I'm afraid," Seamus Finnigan said as the sat down next to him. "He's never been late for this class before..."  
Malfoy and his ogres, Crabbe and Goyle, looked at them from across the room, and Harry could instantly see that Arlé was going to hate him for the rest of her life. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw line hardened. She pulled the quill that had been artfully placed within her red hair, dislodging it and sending cascades of it flowing down her back.  
"Oh, and what have we here, Potter?" Malfoy demanded. "So now that Weasley has his girl, you get jealous and had to pick up another stray?" He chuckled and nodded at her.  
Ron stepped forward, arm cocked, but Hermione grabbed his arm and he stopped. Harry couldn't grab Arlé's arm in time, though, and she walked up to Malfoy, stopping only when her face was five inches from his, and glared. He backed up slightly, and wiped off his robes as if she had somehow dirtied them.  
"Oh, but my apologies, kitten," he spat sarcastically, and paused for another round of laughter from his sidekicks, "Meow, meow..."   
"I would rather like to think that cats are better than rats any day," she spat back, and Harry realized that all eyes had turned towards Arlé and Malfoy, all mouths stopped except theirs. "Besides, in the end, the cats will tire of playing, and will eat the rat." She purred, blinking her green eyes in a suddenly cat-like manner, making the class laugh. "I also hear that ferrets make a tasty treat..."  
Malfoy blanched and backed away, but behind his shocked eyes, Harry knew he was going to get back at Arlé somehow. He looked at her and saw nothing but fierce determination. She knew that he was going to strike back...  
They stood down. Arlé turned to Harry and whispered so that Malfoy couldn't hear, "How did I do?" He smiled and nodded reassuringly, and her eyes unfocused as the red light faded from them. She rubbed her left forearm, and Harry could see that it was redder than her right.   
The blonde Slytherin watched her for a few more moments, and then Snape entered the room, Summer Bailey with him. She had a slight limp as she walked, and her eyes were a brownish gold, watching them intently.  
As Snape entered, everyone dove for seats, Harry sitting between Arlé and Hermione, Ron on the other side of Arlé.  
"Oh, I didn't realize that you had a class!" Professor Bailey exclaimed, her soft Irish accent punctuating her long "I" sounds and elongating her "T"s. "I'll come back later."  
"It will only take a minute," Snape responded smoothly, "And then I can get on to my lesson. Class, take out your books and notebooks."  
As he darted into his office, Ron cut across Arlé to hiss to Hermione, on Harry's other side, "I've never seen him this nice before!"  
"I told you," Hermione murmured, "He likes her!"  
"Does she know?" Harry asked just as softly. They watched him hand a heavy book to her. She smiled back and nodded as he asked her something, and then walked out of the dungeon.  
"He just asked her to supper one night," Arlé whispered, looking around for Malfoy.   
Snape walked to the back of the room where they were sitting, and Harry's heart dropped to his knees. Had Snape just heard her comment?  
"Who are you?" He asked, putting his long fingers on her desk and drumming softly.  
"My name is Erif Deerflada."  
"Are you supposed to be in this class? I didn't see you in the Transfiguration room with all of the others of your year."  
She sighed and looked down at her desk. "I'm not taking Transfiguration with the fifth years. I was home schooled and my Mum wasn't the best of transfiguration teachers..."  
Snape arched an eyebrow and nodded. "I see," he said silkily, and turned to the front of the class to start his lesson. Malfoy had turned to Pansy Parkinson and was whispering something in his ear. She giggled and turned around to look at Arlé.  
Harry sighed and pulled his notebook out, dabbing his quill in Arlé's inkbottle without thinking. His hand brushed hers, and he was surprised to realize that her left hand was her dominant one. But it was still hot, and as their eyes met, he could still see a glint of red...  
  
***  
  
Erif entered the Grand Hall for supper, bag slung over her back by one strap. Her Transfiguration lesson hadn't gone well. While she had made some friends, she had not proven herself capable of transfiguring anything. Frustrations had brought her almost to the point of throwing the stool, which should have been transformed into a monkey, across the room.  
As she stalked by the Slytherin table, someone meowed in a fair imitation of a cat and another purred; her verbal attack on Malfoy had not gone noticed, and she had made dangerous enemies. She narrowed her eyes but did not turn from her course through the Hall. Dumbledore met her gaze as she brushed past the staff table, and nodded solemnly.  
Throwing herself into a chair beside Hermione, she pushed her hair out of her face and glanced around at them. Hermione was so busy scribbling something into her notebook that, although she did acknowledge her presence, she didn't look up. Ron, beside Hermione, was looking at his goblet and sitting across from Erif was Harry--who was watching her, his green eyes remarkably like her own...  
"How was Transfiguration?" He asked, reaching across the table to take the plate of meat from Ron, who had just acquired it and was piling his plate high.  
"Oh, I wish you hadn't asked that. I can't get my mind around the concept, I suppose." Harry handed her the plate, and she slid two cuts of meat onto her own plate before setting it in front of Hermione.  
"Maybe I can help," Hermione cut in, snapping her notebook shut. "I've helped both Ron and Harry with their homework before."  
"Mm hmm," Erif said, mouth full of food. "This is good!" She exclaimed when she swallowed, looking down at the plate as if in disbelief.  
"It was just as good last night," Ron replied, chewing thoroughly and clearly enjoying every bite.  
"I guess I'm not used to such good food every night," Erif confessed. "We weren't exactly rich..."  
"Who were your parents?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her goblet.  
Erif was spared the spotlight as Professor Bailey came up behind them and, with her soft accent, asked, "So, which one of you is Erif?"  
Erif looked up at her, wondering why she was asking, and said shakily, "That's me."  
"I'll need to talk to you after you eat. My classroom is beside the Transfiguration class. Take your time."  
With those strange instructions, she limped away.  
Erif cocked an eyebrow at her friends and asked, "Do teachers usually do this sort of thing?" But by their blank looks, she knew that this was not a commonplace occurrence.  
"Do you want one of us to come with you?" Hermione asked.  
"No, it's okay, I can find it. I wonder what she wants to talk to me about..." Her eyes widened. "You don't think that she heard me say that Snape likes her?"  
Ron grimaced. "Let's hope she isn't going to tell Snape about that. You would be in detention for Snape until you graduate..."  
"I could only imagine what sort of tortures he would put me through," Erif said, a slight grin touching the corners of her mouth. "For tonight, I want you to clean off my toes..."  
"And why don't you help me with my hair grease!" Harry chortled.   
Ron added hastily, "And I want you to clean out my shark tank... and watch out for Flipper, he bites!"  
They burst into giggles, Hermione glaring at them disapprovingly before joining in.  
Erif sneaked a glance at Harry; he looked so wonderful, his green eyes lit up with laughter like that...  
Stop thinking that way! She forced her mind onto other things... Besides, he was too good for her. Why would a boy like him like a girl like her?  
After supper, she left Hermione and Harry playing wizarding chess and went down to Bailey's room. It was dark as she entered, and she glanced around before muttering, "Lumos." Her wand illuminated the room around her, and showed a single candle, unlit, beside a mug filled with some unknown substance. The door creaked behind her, and she spun as Bailey came inside.  
Bailey smiled at Erif and said, "Welcome, Arlé."  
"Please, Professor, it's Erif," she sighed, turning her wand's light off.  
"Why?" She asked, taking a match and lighting the candle the Muggle way. The flame flickered, and within Erif something flickered in time with it... Almost without thinking, she was reaching towards the light, her finger pointed slightly as she grew closer.  
"Erif," Bailey called, and it seemed to Erif that she was far away... the fire was closer-- "Erif!" She commanded, and Erif jumped back from the flame, her sudden movement snuffing out the flame.   
"You know, don't you?" Erif demanded into the suddenly dark room. "You know about this..." She pulled up her sleeve and pointed at the red mark exposed, glowing brightly.  
"Drink this, we need to work fast." Bailey pointed at the cup sitting beside the candle with her wand.  
"Will it get rid of this mark?" Erif demanded, fingering it gently.  
"It will fade, but you will never be rid of it fully," Bailey said while pulling two chairs next to the table with the candle on it. "I, too, have had my share of marks," and she exposed her Death Mark. Erif gasped, and looked up at Bailey's face. Between the glow of their two symbols, they could see each other's faces clearly.  
Erif drank the goblet and closed her eyes as it made its way down. It had a calming effect on her almost instantly; she almost dropped the goblet and very nearly fell into her chair.  
"What was that?" She demanded, glancing down at her now faintly shining mark with distaste.  
"It's something Dumbledore had created for this. They don't know what to call it; people with this... oddity don't often want the signs removed, the impulses taken from them-- don't get up yet."  
Erif sank back into the chair and looked at the candle. "But, I want to control this-- thing, not let it control me. I want to point at the candle like this, and have it spring alive..."  
As she spoke, the flame flickered again and held steady, stopping her mid-sentence.  
"Perhaps we won't need to work as hard as you think," Bailey said tenderly. 


	9. Awake From the Dream

(**A/N: I forgot to do a disclaimer in the first eight chapters, so I'm doing one now... Better late than never...**)  
All of the characters I'm using are owned by J. K. Rowling except for Erif/Arle and Summer Bailey.  
Now onto the story:  
  
  
CHAPTER 9: AWAKE FROM THE DREAM  
  
Harry stretched and watched the sun come up from his lonely perch in the Owlry on an equally lonely Saturday. The birds were asleep, the bright sunrise shining through this window for him and him alone. He imagined for a brief moment that it was Arlé smiling at him, and caught himself as his dream turned into words. He always reverted to this daydream, three simple words forming on her lips, her emerald eyes bright as she looked deep into his own...  
A soft hooting noise came from beside him, and he looked around. Hedwig was watching him from her perch, her large eyes staring unblinkingly.  
"Yes, I'm going to write something," he sighed. He had come up here to write to Sirius, and had instead gotten caught up in his lonely sunrise. She was not up when he had come up here, although Hermione and Ron were. Hermione had said something about her coming in late last night, and while he was dying to recline in her presence, he would not have Hermione wake her for his own personal gain. She seemed to be feeling better from these evening sessions, and while she was having a hard time keeping up with the work the teachers were throwing at her, her first two weeks here had been very good.   
He pulled the pen from his bag and dipped it into his inkwell, placed it on the paper-- where it paused, creating a little pool of ink. He shook himself as he realized that he was supposed to be writing.  
  
Dear Snuffles,  
I heard from Dumbledore that you were attacked by Death Eaters... I wish it hadn't happened to you, but it did, and I can't fight that now. I miss you terribly, and I really want to see you, to be sure you're okay. I haven't even gotten a letter...  
Things are fine over here...if anything, the teachers are piling on more homework than ever, probably in preparation for the O.W.L.'s. Ron and Hermione are really worried about them, but I'm not. I think it hasn't kicked in yet that I'm taking them this year.  
I miss you a lot, and I hope to see you soon. Write back if you can! Say hi to Lupin for me!  
~Harry  
  
He looked it over once or twice, and wondered why he hadn't mentioned Arlé at all. Perhaps he didn't want Sirius to worry about that... Or perhaps he didn't want anyone to know that he liked her.  
He sighed and folded the letter, then tied it to Hedwig's leg. "Take it to Sirius, and it's okay if Lupin takes it." He watched as she flew out the window, feeling the wind from her wings brush at his hair and clothes.  
He went down for breakfast, for once not wondering about Arlé's mysterious past and her secrets.   
In the Great Hall, he walked past Snape and Bailey, sitting close together as seemed their custom at meals. Bailey's lessons were practical and very informative; he had learned a great deal about the methods that the Dark Forces were capable of using. She had shown them Dark Magic with or without a wand, and Harry's least favorite set of lessons; a reteaching of the Imperious Curse. He had not wanted to go through with it again, but with Arlé watching, he would not back down.  
Arlé wasn't taking the Curse any easier than he was. Her legs were very shaky after the first class when they had demonstrated it, and she had gone down to Madame Pomphrey's during Charms immediately following.  
Harry had not taken out the Invisibility Cloak since he had arrived. It was tucked away, and he was rather glad he didn't need to use it. When he used it, most of the time he was either investigating trouble or getting into it hip-deep.   
He sat at the table and had hardly even taken a bite when Hermione and Arlé came into the Hall, Hermione waving her hands angrily.  
"He's such an idiot!" She was exclaiming as they walked closer, Arlé still blinking sleep out of her eyes.  
"Hermione, I know he's an idiot, I've heard it all the way down here," Arlé said, rubbing her arm impatiently.  
"I can't believe the-- the nerve!" Hermione snarled, throwing herself down opposite Harry.  
"I don't want to know, do I?" Harry asked as Hermione spread butter onto her toast savagely. Arlé sank tiredly into the seat next to Harry, across from Hermione, and reached with her fork for the eggs.  
"Well, I'm going to tell you!" Hermione said, cutting off whatever Arlé was about to say. "He asked me if I was taking Krum to the ball! And he said that he was taking Parvati to the ball, and then he asked her! Right in front of me!"  
"Who?"  
"Ron!" She hissed, her eyes filling with tears.   
Harry looked down at his plate as it dawned on him... "What ball?"  
Hermione made a noise of disgust in her throat. "Men!" She snapped as Arlé rose, her voice rising with Hermione's, "He didn't know, give him a chance!"  
They both looked at Arlé, and she glared down at them, the strange red glowing in her eyes. If Harry could see it clearly, then so could Hermione... She sat down and looked away, as if embarrassed.  
"Can we go talk in privacy, just the three of us?" Harry asked softly, glancing out of the corner of his eyes toward the pair of teachers. He could just see them, and they were watching very peculiarly...  
"As long as Ron isn't coming, I don't see why not," Hermione said, but some of her snap was gone.  
Harry grabbed one last piece of toast and they left the Hall.   
"Look," Arlé began, eating her toast with peanut butter, "I really want to know who this Krum is, if you get a chance..."  
"It's a long story, but he came to our school last year and he and Hermione went to the ball together."  
"And Ron got jealous," Hermione added.  
Arlé nodded, looking at them intently. Harry looked at her deep green eyes, and at the sadness within them...  
"He's still jealous," Hermione continued, kicking a stone around between her feet. "I just wish he'd forget about Krum and start thinking about us."  
"You really like him that way?" Arlé asked, glancing up their winding path towards the lake.  
"Yes," Hermione said, "You'd think I'd choose someone more like me, but... After all we've been through, we've developed some intimacy. Especially with you, Harry, after the Tri-Wizard Tournament..." She trailed off, looking down at her feet. They walked along for a time in silence towards the lake. Harry rubbed his scar absently, wondering why it was itching so much...  
"So this 'ball'," Arlé began to precede a heavy and uncomfortable pause, "Is it the Halloween Ball?"   
"No, it's a back-to-school dance," Hermione answered, bending down and picking a stone up.   
Harry glanced at Arlé, a sudden, frightening thought springing unbidden into his mind... What if he were to take Arlé to the ball?  
Would she go with him if he asked?   
Would she want to go with him?  
"Do you want me to go talk to him?" Harry asked carefully.  
"No--Yes, I don't know!" Hermione threw the rock across the lake, where it skimmed off the surface several times. "I don't want it to look like I'm begging."  
"Yeah, I understand," Arlé said, making Harry glance at her. Did she have a boyfriend already? His heart sank to the floor at that prospect, but he merely sighed and let them speak.  
"He's just so-- impossible!" Hermione said, shaking her head in frustration.   
"My mum--" Arlé swallowed, and the hesitant words sprawled out of her mouth. "She used to say that men often like to see that a girl takes interest in them, which may or may not include 'begging.' They feel as insecure about girls as we do about them."  
Harry had to admit, she had him down to the letter.  
"You hardly ever talk about your parents," Hermione commented.  
Arlé blushed and looked at the lake before replying. "I don't know how much to tell you..."  
Hermione glanced over at her, her tender brown eyes watching her friend closely. "Why?"  
Harry could tell that a great many things were going through Arlé's mind as her green eyes locked with his for a moment. None of which she appeared ready to tell them... His scar's itching grew into a slight ache.  
She shook her head, breaking the contact, and Harry felt his chest tighten with emotions. If only she would break down her walls and talk to him...   
"Not now. I don't want to talk about it now..." She sank down onto the grass and stared out toward the distant shore, as if watching for something.  
Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes dark and suspicious as they sat down beside Arlé. Hermione would have more to search for in the library this evening than merely homework...  
Harry stood suddenly, realizing what this pain-- yes, it was actual pain-- in his forehead meant... "Something's wrong," he mused, and continued, "My scar's hurting..."  
They both looked up at him in shock, and together they dashed up toward the school.  
As they entered the castle, a frightened-looking McGonagall speeding past turned to them.  
"There you are!" She cried, adjusting her spectacles and herding them inside the castle, and then shutting the front door firmly behind them. "We thought you were... Never mind, I'll explain later. Hurry to your Common Room and stay there, I'll be up there shortly."  
Arlé glanced at Harry and Hermione with confusion in her emerald eyes. "What--?"  
Harry shook his head. "I don't know, but we need to get to the Common Room." He led the way through the deserted halls, which suddenly seemed more brooding and dark than they normally should have been, given the wonderful day outside.  
When they walked into the Common Room, Ron raced up to them. "You're alive!" He cried, drawing them into the midst of the group.   
George and Fred jumped up as the quartet approached, all jokes and pranks forgotten in the shadow of the moment. "Are you okay?" Fred demanded, glancing at his twin before venturing, "Do you know what's going on?"  
"We don't have any clue. You probably know more than we do," Harry replied, looking around for all of his classmates. "Where's Neville?"   
"Up in our dormitory, hiding," Ron supplied.  
Harry glanced around, looking for someone that might have information to tell, but couldn't see through the thick crowds or hear over the din of almost seventy people talking at once.  
After a few tense minutes, he was aware of someone's closeness. Due to the amount of people in the room, Arlé's shoulder had been pushed into his chest, positioned so that her head was almost beside his own. Despite his scar and the air of danger, he couldn't help but warm to this interesting turn of events... Glancing down at her face, however, he was surprised to see what looked like abject terror in her green eyes. He leaned down a little and murmured in her ear, "Are you okay?"  
She jumped, startled, and he clicked his teeth on her shoulder as it came up. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she said, and as she pushed her hair back with her left hand, her ring glinted. He took comfort in the fact that she did not pull away from him, but he could tell that something about the situation frightened her by the way her back arced backwards with tightness.  
"Are you okay?" He repeated, and she looked up at him out of the corner of her eye before responding.  
"No... I've been in this sort of situation too often to be okay with it..." Harry wondered if she realized that she had pushed closer to him. She was shivering slightly, and he instinctively put his arm around her waist.  
"I know what you mean, Arlé," he said, and continued, "I hate the waiting the worst, because you never know what's going to happen."  
"Yes... I'd rather be out there fighting rather than in here, waiting for the darkness to come find us..." She shuddered.   
Harry nodded, and they both glanced up as the door to the Common Room slid open. A deathly hush fell over the Gryffindors, and into this sudden silence, Professor McGonagall spoke.  
"Come with me, please. Professor Dumbledore will explain when we get into the Great Hall."  
Harry let go just as she realized that he had put his arm around her, but instead of moving away from him in disgust, she blushed and murmured, "Thank you."  
They pressed forward, soon losing sight of Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George as they were pushed along by the crowd. The Slytherins were the loudest of the four Houses as they walked into the Hall. They alone seemed to know what was going on, and discussing it in their usual brash way.  
"Where's Draco?" Arlé hissed as they walked by the Slytherin table. Harry glanced around sharply gasping slightly with the pain that that movement had done, and noticed that indeed, Malfoy was not sitting with the Slytherins. "Are you okay?"  
"My scar..." He shrugged it off, and answered her first question, "He's probably up to no good." As they were waiting to reach their table, Professor Bailey strode by, her limp ever so slightly evident in her gait. She smiled grimly at them and squeezed Arlé's arm before pressing onward to Snape's side. Snape was standing beside his seat at the Grand Table, but he, Bailey, and Dumbledore were the only Professors around it.  
Hermione and Ron had apparently made up; or had put their differences aside in the shadow of the "problem", for when they sat down across from Arlé and Harry, they were talking.  
Dumbledore held up his hands, and the low hum of whispers that had sprouted stopped.  
"I will not lie to you," he began, looking around and making eye contact with his audience. "I will not tell you that everything is fine; that nothing has happened that is worth your attention. The Minister of Magic would want to cover this up. But I will not let it happen that way.  
"A student was taken from our midst; another murdered in cold blood." He paused as a general gasp was heard around the hall, and then continued, "We are investigating who and why, but right now, I can only give you the names of the students...  
"Padma Patil was murdered, and Draco Malfoy was taken." 


	10. Fire and Ice

CHAPTER 10: FIRE AND ICE  
  
Harry was watching her, and she shivered, not able to get her mind around that idea. "Malfoy was taken? It doesn't make any sense..."  
"I know, Erif," Harry responded, leaning a little closer. "But what would they want with him?"  
They were sitting in the vacant Gryffindor Common Room at around ten o'clock at night, closer to the fire than she normally ever wanted to get. No one wanted to stay around and talk about it, not even Hermione and Ron, but Erif knew she couldn't sleep. And she didn't really want to go up to the dormitory with Parvati, who was (naturally) very distraught over her sister's death. Erif felt numb to the whole situation... Once, long ago, she may have sympathized, but now...  
In truth, she thought as she stared into the flames, the potion could only do so much. And in the fuss and bustle, Summer had forgotten to have the potion made...  
She would endure. Summer had taught her preventative measures that she used often on her own mark, and they had helped Erif immensely so far.  
She thought she was going to lose it when they had been herded into the Common Room to wait for news. It had reminded her so much of a time she had sworn to forget...  
  
"Arlé, run with Jeremie and Pat! They need you now!"  
"No, Mum, I'm not leaving you!"  
"Take Pat, and go! He's coming…"  
"I'm not hiding any longer, Mum! They won't find me in their pathetic and perverse game of hide and seek! I'm going out there and getting him…"  
"Arlé, listen!" Her father's voice cut through their squabbling. "We'll do the standing, you have to continue the family line! Think of Pat, and Jeremie!"  
"I'll do it, Dad."  
"Thank you, Phoenix," he said softly, using his nickname for her. He turned her about and shoved her toward the nursery.  
She opened the door and Jeremie followed her. His green eyes were as frightened as hers, and probably as big. Arlé picked up six-month-old Pat out of his crib, and turned to exit when her father slammed the door shut. "Stay in there, Phoenix!" He shouted, and she hid with Jeremie underneath the crib, nestling Pat in her arms.  
She could hear from beyond the closed door, her father and mother's voices, echoing with another male's voice.  
"Eric!" Her father's tone was that of pure disbelief. She gasped and put her fingers in her mouth to keep from screaming...  
"My son," their mother cried, her voice raw. "Why?"  
"You were once my parents. Now I have no father, no mother, just like my true master... Did you think that I would be your downfall? That your eldest son, the one you were always so proud of, would turn on you all? Well here's the answer to your question... Avada Kedavra!"  
"Nooo!" She cried, and pushed Jeremie out their bottom floor window first. Eric slammed the door open, and she grasped Pat firmly in her arms before focusing on jumping out the window...  
"Freesium!" Eric cried, and her body was locked in place, she couldn't move, couldn't twitch a muscle... He wrested Pat out of her arms...  
  
"Erif? Are you sure you're okay?" Her mind flew forward almost a month, and stared at Harry, tears blurring her view.  
"No," she croaked, and looked away, ashamed at showing this side of her again. With the burning in her cheeks came the burning of her mark again, and she rubbed it smoothly, trying to calm the tickling yet painful feeling of its call. If she ceded to it, she would most likely kill Harry with it, and if only for that reason she fought against it. "It's too much like..." She trailed off, not wanting to explain this to him...  
"Tell me," he goaded softly.  
"You won't want to hear it," she stalled.  
"Try me," Harry said, and his green eyes locked with hers.  
"Some other time," she said, looking away into the fire.  
"I'm not going to be able to sleep," he said, "and I'm guessing you won't either, so... can I show you something?"  
"Sure," she replied, arcing an eyebrow in wonder.   
"I have to go get it, I'll be right back..." He stood from the armchair and walked around hers. She looked everywhere but the fire, which seemed especially hot and cozy now that Harry was gone...  
  
***  
  
Harry returned and found her staring into the fire, her eyes glazed and unfocused, one hand outstretched toward the flames ever so slightly.   
"Erif?" He asked, and when she didn't respond, he touched her shoulder.  
She jumped and spun around in her seat; her hand pulled back from the fire and when she looked up at him, it was her emeralds and within them, their fiery depths. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she said, "Oh, you just startled me… I was thinking."  
He could hear a lame excuse when he heard one, but kept his mouth shut.   
He held up his "surprise" and handed it to her; she accepted it, and rolled it around her fingers. The round object clicked against her ring, and she held it up to examine it in the flickering light of the fireplace.   
"What is it?" She asked slowly, rotating it around slower.  
"I'm not sure what it's called, but we've dubbed it the 'Time Globe'." Arlé looked sharply at him and said, with more anger than she intended, "Divination objects don't work very well for me…"  
"It's not really Divination... I mean, it tells the past, present, and future of a person." He took it from her and said, "We'll do me first..."  
He pulled out his wand, and when he touched it to the globe, the object lit up and sparkled for a moment. The sparkles settled, and inside the globe tiny figures appeared...  
Arlé looked up at him, confusion on her face. "It's going to show my past, future, and possibly the present..." He explained.  
She nodded and looked back at it, and with a flash the globe exploded around them...  
  
Flash--  
The scene was that of the Great Hall, but there were orange, green, and red streamers draped along the walls. There were couples meeting each other out in the middle of the dance floor, as the band picked up their slow song. A boy with black hair met a girl with red hair in the middle, and their outfits were corresponding shades of emerald, to match their eyes…  
"I hope Hermione and Ron make up their differences by the time this ball is done," the boy commented.  
"I think they already have," she remarked, pointing her chin over his shoulder. He spun her around slowly and looked to see his friends dancing together.   
"Finally…" He breathed.  
"Yes. All is as it should be..."  
"Except you and I."  
"What?" she asked, pulling back her head from over his shoulder and looking him square in the eye. "I can't... I mean, I..."  
He looked at her for a moment and then said coldly, "I understand."  
"But you don't..." She said as they stopped swaying to the music.   
"I understand enough." He let go, and they turned from each other, both with tears in their eyes…  
Flash--  
  
"Enough!" Arlé cried, reaching out and putting her hand over his own, pulling the wand away. She stood quickly and moved away from him.  
Harry looked up at her, an offended look in his eyes. "This is just one possible future... You don't know that this could happen!"  
She didn't respond, and he could tell that the little she had opened up had frozen over again. Her eyes were wet as she stared at the globe in his hands, and Harry sighed dramatically. Why was she acting like this? Whoever she was, whatever she was, he would accept her, if only she'd open up to him... He was getting tired of waiting, but no other girl had ever done this to him, to his heart...  
"I'm going up to bed," she said after a moment, cutting into his racing thoughts. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." She stalked up the stairs, and he watched after her long after she had closed the door.  
  
***  
  
She flung herself on her bed, the tears that she had held back from Harry coming flooding out. I will not allow him to sneak into my heart... But she knew that he had already done so, and nothing she could do would ever erase him from her thoughts. Ever...   
  
(*A/N*- Sorry this took so long, and that its so short... The next chapter is a bit longer but its at a bit of a cliffhanger right now and needs the chapter after it to settle things down... If you all want it tell me and I'll post it. Thanks, and please review!) 


	11. Divisions

CHAPTER 11: DIVISIONS  
  
Erif woke early the next morning, her arm burning. She staggered out of bed and got dressed, and then left her dormitory with the intent of finding Professor Bailey. As she walked past the dying embers of the fire, the small flames seemed to reach toward her, but she ignored them as best she could.   
She walked toward the Great Hall, her mind musing over the events of yesterday. Despite the long hours between Dumbledore's announcement of the events and Professor McGonagall's announcement that they could finally leave the Common Room at around six that night, all she could remember of that time was hiding, and waiting, and the vague sense that time was running short...  
She could remember in detail the Sphere's premonition, and what she saw she didn't want to see ever again. If, as the Sphere seemed to suggest, she and Harry were intertwined by their fates, what more had he seen in the Time Globe of her secrets?  
And why had You-Know-Who taken Draco? She could not even begin to guess at the Dark Lord's reasoning... The only idea she had was that Malfoy had fought the Dark Lord and Patil had been caught in the middle of it; and even that paled when she thought of how much it made sense. Draco seemed a heartless boy, intent on proving that he was better than everyone else.   
She grabbed a piece of toast in the almost empty Hall; and with a nod to the brave duo from Hufflepuff sitting at their lonely table, she left in search of either Dumbledore or Bailey.  
Walking through the halls alone had been a relief; she could be herself, and think about whatever came to mind, and not explain it to inquisitive minds and eyes. She rubbed her arm and glanced down at it; the mark was glowing as red as ever, and she covered it with her sleeve impatiently.   
She walked past the Teacher's Lounge when she heard a familiar voice. She paused outside, and was about to open the door when the tone of voice made her pause.  
"--And took Malfoy, why?" Summer was saying, her voice strained.  
"I haven't quite figured that out, but I want to know how they got inside in the first place." Snape's cold dark voice responded back.  
"And Patil wants to go home... which is very understandable, but can we allow her to under these circumstances?" McGonagall's sharp voice continued.  
Dumbledore spoke next. "We cannot allow her to go home. Not yet, anyway. We are trying to establish a Gate of sorts--"  
He was cut off by a collective gasp. Bailey recovered first, saying, "But how is that possible? If you break rules and regulations..."  
"Dumbledore," Snape added, "You're already considered off the edge by the Minister of Magic. If you go against everything that he has established, you risk your job."  
"At the very least," Summer stated.  
"I know the risks, and I know that this must be done. It will only be a temporary one, and only the four of us and the Patils will need to know."  
"But how will she get back here?"  
"We shall have to ask her if she wants to stay at home over an extended period of time, until we can find a safer way to get there." With that settled, Dumbledore was ready to move onto other things. "Summer, how is Arlé coming along?"  
Summer sighed before responding, "It's slow. She requires the potion to control it..."  
"She was too young for this mark, this task..." Snape added.  
"She will be able to control it, if we give her time."  
"Time makes the best heroes..." Dumbledore stated. "Look at Potter."  
"Although I hate to admit it, you are right," Snape sighed.   
Erif backed away slowly, not wanting them to hear her. Thankfully, she was still wearing her socks, so she was able to sneak down the hall in silence. She went back to the Common Room where, an hour later, Bailey came to get her.   
"Erif?" Bailey asked, and Erif jumped out of her trance.   
She looked up, and Summer shook her head as they met eyes. "I think you've become too dependent on the potion. Follow me..."  
They walked out of the Common Room together, but if she had looked back, she would have seen a sleepy-eyed Harry come out of his room.   
  
***  
  
"She's hiding something," Hermione commented at breakfast. Harry looked up at her, surprised about her cold tone. "I know that's not her real name, and she's got some dark secret."  
"Oh, Hermione, just leave it," Ron suggested, stuffing his mouth with some sausage. "You me an' Harry are hiding somethin' all th' time."  
"Not that way," Hermione snapped irritably. "I think it has something to do, directly or indirectly, with Malfoy and Patil."  
"But she was with us when it happened," Harry cut in.   
"I know that," she protested. "But she's hiding something; and the way she avoids our questions... She makes me wonder..."  
"You don't really know her," Harry said, raising his voice ever so slightly.  
"And you do?" She asked, watching him with one eyebrow cocked. "No one does, Harry, and until someone does, I can't trust her."  
"But what if she's innocent?"  
"Then she has nothing to hide, and we can be friends." Hermione stood. "I'm going to the library to look up things."  
"About her?" Harry asked, standing as well. "You could just ask her."  
"I'd rather not." She walked away from him, leaving Ron and Harry staring at each other in confusion.  
"Why does this keep getting more and more difficult?" Harry sighed.  
"You like Erif, don't you?" Ron asked.  
"Yeah, a little," Harry responded.  
"Maybe Hermione doesn't want you to get hurt," Ron bridged.  
"I can see things for myself, I don't need you two to be overprotective!" Harry snapped, putting his hands on the table and hanging his head in frustration.   
"Maybe you do." Ron took another bite of his meal and sipped at his juice, then continued, "Some people, myself included, are blinded by someone that they like. Just remember that, Harry. Heads can be clouded by the mist of a female's perfume..."  
"Yeah, I can agree." Harry remembered a time when the only person he thought of was Cho...  
He noticed as he walked out of the Hall that Snape was watching him with his beady eyes. Harry wondered irritably if everyone knew more about Arlé than he did...  
  
***  
  
"Good, good. Just keep it steady for a few more moments… There, we're done now."  
Erif collapsed into the chair, and accepted the potion that Summer handed her eagerly. "I didn't think that was very good," she confessed when she had finished drinking.  
"It was better than the other times," Summer replied, nodding her head and smiling. "And Professor Dumbledore wanted me to push you today."  
"Does it have anything to do with the events of yesterday?" She sighed.  
"Yes, more than you know."  
"Is the Ball still happening?"  
"As far as I know, its' been postponed from this next weekend to two Saturdays from now, but yes."  
"Good."  
"Who are you going to go with?"  
"Harry." Erif blushed a little.  
"I like your choice of men, Arlé." Summer had decided that she wasn't going to call her Erif at all, which irritated her, but she let it slide.  
"Yeah, but I don't know if he likes me. I'm just not ready to tell him about my past, and he won't accept no as an answer." Erif put the goblet down on the table and snuffed out the candle. "I'm hoping he asks me, I'd feel really stupid if I had to ask him..."  
"You'll do just fine," Summer said, and opened the door to the corridor.   
Erif walked toward the library with the purpose to get some books about Transfiguration, and had only just stepped within when she was confronted by Hermione.  
"Hi, Hermione," she said, and her thought flew back to the first night she had ever seen her... There was something cold in her eyes as she watched her, something angry and malignant...  
"So tell me," Hermione demanded, her voice as cold as her eyes, "Are you trying to play with Harry?"  
"No! Why do you think that?"  
"You're hiding your past, a lot of secrets... You've peaked his curiosity. You're toying with him..."  
"I'm not trying to..."  
Hermione put the book she was holding onto the table beside her with a loud thud and advanced on Erif, voice rising. "No one knows who you really are, and we all want to know. Why does your arm burn and glow? I only know of one thing that could make it do that, and usually people with it don't try and hide it, like nothing is wrong." Hermione glared, oblivious to the crowd of people she had gathered.   
"You don't understand--"  
"I would like to." Hermione backed up from her, still staring accusingly.   
Erif looked down at the floor, wondering how much to explain to Hermione...  
"Erif, explain to me."  
"Okay, but not here." Erif looked around at the people staring, and was shocked to see Professor Bailey in their midst.   
Hermione grabbed her bag and stuffed her books into it, and said, "Fine, let's go somewhere a little more private." She stormed out of the library, Erif on her heels, leaving the crowd to wonder and guess at what Erif would reveal to Hermione... Or if she would reveal anything at all.  
  
***  
  
Harry watched as his two friends stalked out of the library, wondering what had just occurred. He had only come in for the last half of the argument, and was not surprised when the crowd turned to him with curiosity.  
He shook his head and left the library, hoping that this would settle in time for the Ball... So he could ask Arlé without Hermione breathing down his neck.  
He entered his empty dormitory and was surprised to see Hedwig sitting impatiently on his bed. Hadn't he just sent her off yesterday? She hooted softly at him as he untied her letter, and waited to see if he would send her back with another one.  
He tore it open, eager to read what Sirius had written.  
It was not Sirius' handwriting... The flowing script was slightly hurried, the ends of words blending into the beginning of the next ones.  
  
Dear Harry,  
I'm glad to hear that you're worried about Snuffles, but I'm afraid I have bad news for you. He's not in his right mind; we're not sure what the Death Eaters have done to him, and we haven't been able to get a sensible word out of him yet. If you ask the Head Master first, you may be allowed to come with Bailey next visit... But he has changed.  
I'll see you later, if time allows.  
~Moony  
  
Harry set his letter down on the bed, hardly believing this change of events. If Dumbledore had known that Sirius was as bad as Lupin claimed, why hadn't he said it?   
He wondered if Sirius' capture and Malfoy's disappearance had something to do with each other...  
"What's that, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry jumped, looking up at him.  
"Do you remember what Dumbledore told me about Snuffles?"  
Ron nodded.  
"Well, I wrote to Snuffles, and this is the response I got." He held it out with trembling hands, and Ron took it gingerly. "He's with Lupin?" He asked softly.  
"Yes. I don't know what to do about all this."  
"You should go see him," Ron bridged when he finished reading it and handed it back.   
"How would that help things?" Harry protested.  
"I don't know, but that's all you can do to help him now," Ron said, running his hand through his Weasley-orange hair.  
Harry nodded and grabbed a quill and some parchment.  
  
Moony,  
I don't know how much it would help him, but I'll go see if Head Master and tell him that I want to come. I don't know if he'll let me, but I'll ask anyway. Tell Snuffles I'm thinking of him.  
~Harry  
  
He sealed it and handed it to Hedwig, who blinked sleepily and set off again.  
"Ron, Hermione caught up with Erif. They met up in the library."  
Ron's eyes grew wide. "I've never seen Hermione so set against something since S.P.E.W. last year. But she's worried about you, and rightfully so, I think."  
Harry glared at Ron, not believing what he ad just heard. "So now you're against me having a love life too?"  
Ron's eyes hardened. "If you would stop being so pig-headed, you would see that someone with so many secrets like that isn't the one for you. You obviously didn't listen when I hinted at it at breakfast..."  
"I don't care what you think about her," Harry cried in an out-of-character display of anger, but he had had enough with his friends debating within themselves. It was as if all his worries, fears, and emotions had bubbled to the surface, and he couldn't stop their flow into this outlet. "If she's got secrets that she doesn't want to show yet, fine. I've got secrets that I don't want to reveal."  
"But you have reason to," Ron argued. "She's never done anything like you--stopped a Dark Lord's rise to power, escaped from his clutches several times..."  
"At the risk of another's life," Harry spat, and continued, "And how do you know that she hasn't? She was the one in my dream, the one whose brother was killed by that Death Eater; or have you forgotten?"  
"Surely you couldn't have remembered her from that dream? You just think that she's the one from the dream so you can justify your obsession with her!"  
"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry responded, his voice cold and dangerous.   
"When she turns you over to You-Know-Who, you'll know who your real friends are."  
"Take that back," Harry spat.  
"No!"  
"I said, take it back!" Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron.  
Ron also pulled out his wand, glaring, and shouted, "Obrigenscha!"   
At the same time, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!"  
The beams narrowly missed each other; Harry flung up his arm to block the spell that Ron had cast. A searing coldness hit his arm, and his arm grew numb. His lifeless fingers loosened their grip on his wand, and it clattered to the floor, where it lay atop Ron's wand, which had been cast aside by Harry's spell.  
Ron drew back from Harry, appalled at what he had done. "Harry, I..." he said, but Harry reached down, picking up his wand clumsily with his left, and kicked Ron's underneath the bed.  
Without glancing at Ron's face, he stormed out of the dorm, out of the Common Room, out of the castle. A blast of balmy September wind flew past, cooling down his cheeks as he ran.  
He tucked his wand into his back pocket and slumped to the ground near the lake, his tears his only companion beneath a large Weeping Willow.   
He was so engrossed in his own feelings that he didn't realize when someone sat down beside him and lay her head on his right shoulder, which was still completely numb. After about five minutes, he realized that she was crying too, although a bit more quietly than he was.  
Their soundless consolation of each other was exactly what Harry needed; he felt like a social outcast, spat upon and looked down at by everyone except the other social outcasts... Her tears streaked down his arm and he realized that he could feel her cheek on his arm. But the hex that Ron had cast was supposed to make his arm numb for the next ten hours, at least. Was it Ron's weakness at throwing a spell at his dearest friend? Or something else?  
"Are you okay, Erif?" He asked softly, and was rewarded with her pair of emerald eyes, filled with tears, looking up at him with tender thanks.  
"I don't know..." she sighed, looking away across the lake. He flexed his fingers and found that the bones still felt numb and cold, but he reached up and awkwardly wiped the tears from her cheek with them.  
She shuddered under his touch, but did not pull away. She looked up at him again, this time her face was closer. "I explained some... things to Hermione that... I wish I hadn't... And she didn't believe me, so I... had to show her... Didn't want to..."  
"I'll wait until you're ready, but I want to know."  
"I know you do, but I... don't feel strong enough to tell you." She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes, and as he was bending over to wipe them, she took his hand within her own. "Thank you for understanding... Do you want to tell me about it?"  
"Maybe later. When you tell me about your life, I'll tell you all about mine." Her eyes were still filled with tears, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek once more. He moved to wipe it away, and as he did so, he pulled her into a kiss. His heart beat fast, but he knew that this felt right... To have her beside him, feeling her warmth.  
And she didn't pull away, which was probably the best thing that had happened to him all day...  
They parted finally, each set of green eyes looking deep into the other, trying to understand the other's thoughts and dreams...  
"We should go back to the castle," Harry said grudgingly. As if to emphasize that thought, his stomach growled, and she giggled, breaking the romantic moment.  
"I think my stomach is agreeing too," she murmured, and he helped her to her feet. They held hands for a long moment, and then she let go; her eyes sad once more.  
They walked back up to the castle, Harry feeling sad that he had to leave that perfect world and take the long hike back to reality... 


	12. Opening the Gates

CHAPTER 12: OPENING THE GATES  
  
The next few days went by quickly for Harry; the endless puzzles posed to him combined with the assignments from his classes filled his days with hurried trips to the library, peering into texts far too late at night, and trading answers with Erif. Ron had not spoken a word to Harry since the day he had cursed him; Hermione was intent on staying away from Harry and Arlé. His friends' attitudes hadn't been very reassuring, and Arlé had grown gradually more distant from him, as if afraid of him.   
He noticed, too, that she was eternally tired, and almost always hiding a yawn behind a hand.   
He finally received his chance to talk to Bailey about Sirius Thursday evening.   
She walked into the Common Room, obviously looking for Arlé, but their eyes met and Harry stood.   
"Professor," he greeted softly.  
"Potter. Can I help you?"  
"Are you going to visit a certain someone who has been injured by Death Eaters?"  
Her bronze eyes narrowed for a moment, and then widened in surprise. "You know about him?"  
"He's my God-father."  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Well, yes I am going--this weekend, in fact." She smiled at him wistfully. "I know you want to come, but I can't let you."  
"And why not?"  
"Because... he's too dangerous."  
"Dangerous?" Harry exploded, and then lowered his voice, looking around to see if anyone noticed his outburst. "Everyone seems to like icing things off a bit around here! Professor Dumbledore told me that he was all right, and Lupin said that he was unconscious."  
"I'm sorry that I had to be the one to reveal this, but he's not in his right mind. He tries to bite at everyone who comes near, and every so often he turns into his animal form. We keep him restrained... It's not pretty."  
"Maybe I can help..." Harry began hopefully.  
She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "I've been trying to work with him, link mind-to-mind, anything I thought would work. If seeing you would work, I would have brought you before this. It's not some fear he's got, it's something deeper, something that the Death Eaters forged into his brain." She looked up at him, and grasped his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sorry."  
Harry sighed, and just then Arlé bounced up, practically beaming with happiness. "Hermione just spoke to me!" She cried to Harry in surprisingly hushed tones. "She apologized, too!"   
Harry couldn't help grinning back at her; he was excited to see the look on her face, and Hermione's apology had only made him feel even better. Her green eyes sparkled without a hint of red.  
Bailey smiled at them and said to Arlé, "Erif, I want you to come at five instead of six." To Harry, she continued, "I'll get back to you on coming to visit him... I've just had an idea."  
She spun on her heel and walked out of the Common Room, leaving Harry staring at Arlé.   
Hermione appeared as if out of nowhere by Arlé's side, and said, "Harry, I'm sorry for shunting you aside these past few days... I just really needed to think about certain things." She smiled at him and set the pile of books that she had been carrying onto the table for a moment. "Do you want to come to the library with me? I need to get some books for that Transfiguration Essay..."  
Arlé glanced down at the stack of books and smacked herself off the forehead. "Oh, I almost forgot, I need to do something for Transfiguration myself. Can you help me, Hermione?"  
"Sure, if you come with me to the library."  
"Fair's fair. Coming, Harry?" Arlé asked him.  
"Has Ron mentioned anything to you about wanting to make up, Hermione?"  
She looked down at the floor and then sadly in Ron's direction. He was sitting on the couch, struggling through Divination homework. She shook her head soundlessly, and Harry sighed. "It's all right, I was just hoping... I guess now I'll come to the library."  
They walked into the library, and every head turned in their direction. Harry remembered the last time they were seen together in the library, and he tried to ignore the looks.  
They moved to a vacant table and put their things down, and Hermione dove into the aisles of books. Harry and Arlé exchanged bemused glances and stood there for a moment, and then Harry suggested, "Why don't we go find something to occupy ourselves? We could be here for quite some time."  
"You know, I think Hermione is rubbing off on me... I want to go find a copy of 'Hogwarts, A History.'"  
Harry laughed. "Wow, you're the first. Hermione will be glad to hear that one of us has finally taken her suggestion and searched that old book out."  
Arlé led him up and down the aisles in search of the book. They finally located it beside a pile of books about vampires and werewolves; it appeared that it had been misplaced and dumped in this section.  
She pulled out the soft gold book and carried it back to their table. She set it down heavily, and dust flew from its bindings.  
"What do you need this for?" He asked.  
"I need to look up something about the school." She glanced around and whispered, "I heard the teachers talking about some Gates... I want to find out what they are." Her fingers skimmed through the thick book to the index on the last pages, and she paused at one entry. "Aha, I thought that Hogwarts had Gates... Hmm, page six hundred and three..."  
Arlé's eyes widened as she read, as if realizing some fatal error that she had committed. She handed him the book mutely, finger pointing to a passage, and watched intently as he read.  
"The Gates were placed inside the school during the Attack of 1917 as a safeguard to transport students to safety if trouble struck. Each Gate led to a different Muggle-free area inside of England's borders. Some unknown source found and located each of these seven Gates, and sold this information to the highest bidder. The winner was a witch named Tonya Garcilla, who wrote for the Witch Weekly at the time. She posted this information and the Minister of Magic, at the time Robert Stevens, personally saw to their eternal dormancy. As of now, only six of these Gates have been found, and extensive search throughout the past century has led many to believe that the seventh Gate was unstable and collapsed shortly after its birth. A handful of wizards and witches wonder, however, if the collapse of one of these fabled Gates would not destroy everything within a mile radius of the school because of the extreme concentration of magic that composes the structure of each Gate."   
"Wow." He looked up from the reading and found that Hermione had come over while he was reading.   
She was looking at the book over his shoulder, an amused expression on her face. "So you finally decided to take my advice and read the book?"  
"Well, it was actually Arlé's idea to read it. She said that she overheard the teachers talking about opening the Gates..."  
"No..." Hermione breathed as she scanned the page. "But it says that they're all shut down permanently..."  
"I know," Arlé cut in, "But I heard them say it."  
"That could be dangerous."  
Harry glanced up at Arlé. "Did you hear why they wanted to open them?"  
Arlé nodded, sinking into the chair beside Harry, who was still leaning over the open book. "They said they were going to try sending Parvati home..."  
"Then they would open it soon."  
Arlé nodded, looking around at her two friends. "Probably either this weekend or the next."  
"They can't do it the next weekend, that's when the Ball is," Hermione protested.  
"So they would do it this weekend." Harry squinted down at the page and noticed that there was more about the Gates on the opposing page.  
He read it out loud. "'The spell for opening a Gate will open all of them, granting easy access in times of imminent danger. However, the one drawback is that the Gates are either way accessible: anyone could go back to Hogwarts via an open Gate.' If someone finds out that they are going to open the Gate this weekend, then Vold--You-Know-Who could find a way inside."  
"I'm sure Dumbledore knows the problem behind opening a Gate, though. After all, he is Head Master of the school..." Hermione said, looking intently at the page with one finger lightly touching the corner of it.  
"Where are the known Gates?" Arlé asked, glancing around the library.  
"It doesn't say," Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.  
"What does this mean?" Her finger was trembling slightly as it touched some text written in a different language. Beneath the script were the words, "None have been able to translate this, but scholars believe that it may tell of the positions of all seven Gates, if one could translate it properly."  
"What language is it?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.   
"'Explorendo casim quattuar superema Ianuimon aci aquilom, auster, eurus irda occiduus...'" Arlé read off perfectly, the odd red light spreading to her eyes as a distant look took her somewhere far away from them. Harry backed away from her, hoping she would keep her voice soft, because this just wasn't normal, and people would notice. He glanced at Hermione and she nodded, as if making a connection. "'Primitianu cista turric ni invisare ica du gramen. Secundianu, cista inferuscontabulatia de schen schola. Tertianu irda quartianu unicam appareo cin luna ampla, adsideo turric parvus. Quintianu irda sextianu iuxta seminædificium. Septianu, irda ma praepotens, lateo cista subta Atrium Grandim. Septianu usurpa liberat ica alterianu, quam cetre serere aci seianu.'"  
"What does it mean?" Hermione asked again, and Arlé squinted and began reciting. Her voice took on a cold eerie tone as she read falteringly.   
"Look for the four main Gates at North, South, East, and West. The first is within the tower that cannot be seen from the lawn. The second, within the lowest level of the school. The third and fourth are only visible on the full moon, beside the smallest tower. The fifth and sixth are near the Greenhouses. The seventh, and most powerful, is hidden in the depths of the Great Hall. The seventh is operated independently of the others, although it may be linked to them."   
She slumped backward once she had finished, and Hermione almost didn't catch her in time because she was so shocked. Harry tucked a chair beneath her, and she sank weakly into it, closing her eyes and shaking her head.   
She lifted her head for a moment and then blinked slowly. Harry watched as the red light receded from her eyes. "Harry, I..."  
Hermione grabbed her shoulder roughly and pointed at her arm; Arlé nodded and reached over weakly to cover Hermione's hand with her own.  
"How...?" Harry stammered, confused. It just didn't make sense; how could Arlé speak and understand some language that no one else could understand?  
"What language is it?" She looked away from him, not wanting to explain... He began again, desperate to see her eyes alight with life instead of cold hard steel. "Arlé, why can't you explain this to me?"  
Her eyes hardened as she glared up at him. "What did you just call me?"  
"Ar..." He trailed off into silence, realizing his error.  
"I don't go by that name anymore," she said icily, standing up with reserved strength he hadn't known she had. "I don't know where you got that name, but I've left that life behind. And you should too." She grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder. Harry grasped her arm as she swept up her books, and she quite unwillingly looked into his eyes. Beneath her icy exterior, tears lurked, making him wonder if she had truly forgotten her past as she said she had...  
She shoved his hand off and stalked out of the library. Harry sighed and sank into a chair, putting his head down on the desk.  
Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and said cryptically, "You've chosen the right one..."  
Harry shook his head and said, "Why did she tell you and not me?"  
"I forced her to tell me," Hermione said gently, "But I would suggest you wait for her to tell you..."  
"I've waited a long time already," he grumbled, but he knew she was right.  
"Give her time," she suggested, picking up the scattered books. Her hand paused on the "Hogwarts, A History," and she quickly bookmarked the page and put it on top of her pile. "I'm going to supper now. Coming?"  
Harry got to his feet and followed her, wondering where Arlé had gone.  
  
***  
  
"He knows," she spat into the darkness, lighting and putting out the candle irritably.  
"Knows what?"  
"Knows my other name. Knows who I am... He probably knows what I'm hiding too."  
"How do you know that?" Bailey asked, relighting the candle and moving it from Erif's clenching fingers.  
"He called me Arlé; what else does he know about me that I've never told him?"  
"Perhaps it's time to bring the truth out..."  
"Perhaps after the dance."  
"You don't even know if you're going together yet."  
"No, we don't. I just don't want to hear him say no... Especially not after that kiss... I have to make sure Harry likes me first before I'll pour my heart to him." She reached out and tenderly touched the flame with a slightly curved forefinger. Turning her hand over, the fire moved from her finger to her palm. She cupped her hands around it and looked down at it. How could such a small thing capture her heart, just as Harry had?  
"The other things have started, too. I was able to read some language that no one else could understand... It scared me, and Harry, too."  
"We're going to have to practice bigger."  
"I'm afraid to. What if someone sees, and word gets out to You-Know-Who?" She shuddered and the flames licked higher from her palm. She snuffed them out and stood wearily.  
"Do you want to continue?" Bailey asked, and Erif knew that Summer understood.  
"A part of me does, and the other part doesn't. I need to learn to control it, but at what risk, what cost will I learn? And if controlling it will cost lives, I'm not willing to go any further."  
"Very good. That's what I needed to hear," Summer said, rising as well. "You have more strength than you give yourself credit for."   
She snuffed out the candle and they stood in the darkness for a few moments. Erif wasn't afraid to admit that darkness made her nervous, but she also felt safe in the dark. She could hide and not be seen...  
  
(*A/N* Just to inform you all, I am just making up the name "Robert Stevens" but if anyone knows the real Minister of Magic before Fudge, could you let me know? Also, the language that Erif reads is my own clever little language. It does actually closely resemble Latin, though... ;) R/R, please!!! ) 


	13. The Ball

CHAPTER 13: THE BALL  
  
He was sitting in the armchair, nervously drumming, when she came out of the girl's room. Harry jumped to his feet, offering her his hand as he walked to the bottom of the stairs. She was dressed in a deep red gown with gold shimmers, her eyes bright as she slid her hand into his. Tucked into her hair was a golden filigree claw, which had caught up half of her hair into a bun. The rest of it spilled down her back, incredibly curly and bouncy with life. She smiled down sweetly at him, and all of his fears and tensions disappeared, lost in her radiance.  
  
"Erif?" He asked, coming up behind her after her Transfiguration class. She was still prodding her porcupine with her wand, as if by touching it with it, the small creature would turn into a pincushion.   
"Forget this," she snapped, casting her wand down while the animal scrambled off for cover. Professor McGonogall looked up from her papers in the front of the class, and Arlé quieted her tone. "What do you want?" She sighed, looking pointedly down at the desk.  
"I'm sorry the name slipped," Harry said to her, trying to make amends.  
"Did you get that name from the Globe?" she asked softly so McGonogall wouldn't hear.  
"No, I didn't. I'll tell you how I knew when you tell me about your past."  
She turned from him a moment, contemplating, and then returned with a shy smile. "Fair's fair," she said, and shook his hand firmly.  
"Can I ask you something?"  
"Go ahead," she said with a wave of her hand, turning her back to him as she picked up the porcupine from the floor and set it on the desk again.  
"Would you like to go to the Ball with me?" She turned around fully, as surprised by his daring as he was.   
"Yes," she sighed with gladness, and he could tell that she had genuinely meant it...  
  
Behind him, Ron stood and gasped as Hermione came down the stairs. Harry's mind jumped to the present and he pulled Arlé out of Hermione's way, bringing her a little closer to him. Hermione smiled down at him in a calm way, and Ron offered his arm for her. She accepted it smoothly, and winked at Arlé when Ron wasn't looking. Hermione's hair was as straight as Arlé's was curly, and just as pretty, and her evening blue dress robes shimmered with some magical charm. Together the four set out for the Ball.  
It was exciting enough to be going to the Ball with Arlé, but to be going with Ron and Hermione only made him happier. Ron had profusely apologized on the previous Wednesday, and then asked if Harry minded if he would try out for the Quidditch team since Wood was gone. Harry had agreed; Ron's family seemed to have a knack for Quidditch, and the only thing stopping his chances at playing was his broom. His Shooting Star had long since been outdated...  
"I'm so excited," Arlé said, a smile playing at her lips and a fire within her eyes. "This is one of those things that never happens when you're home schooled..."  
"Is this your first time?" Hermione asked.  
"Well, I guess... My brothers used to bring home stories of girls they've met, and dances they've been to, but this is my first one." She blushed a little and ducked her head.  
Ron laughed and clapped Harry on the back. "This is the first one where we haven't been rushing at the last moment to find dates, right Harry?"  
Harry nodded, remembering the previous year's dance with mixed feelings. He had been obsessed with going with Cho last year... Would he forget Arlé as quickly as he had Cho?  
He profusely hoped not.  
They entered the Great Hall and glanced around in awe at the transfiguration. The tables had been pushed aside and lined up against one side of the hall, and a large amount of space had been allotted to the dance floor. The students were enjoying themselves as they spun across the dance floor with their partners, and "Smashing Pumpkins," the band Dumbledore had hired, was wailing a fast number.  
The quartet glanced around at each other, and an unspoken agreement was reached as they floated toward the tables first. Harry realized that they were late enough that the band had already started playing; Dumbledore had given his speech already. He glanced around at the clock and saw that it said quarter of six. The dance had probably started at five, but he and Ron had waited impatiently for their dates while they fussed and primped in their dorm.  
Arlé sat down next to him, her no-sleeve dress rustling as she slid into the seat. The ceiling shone crystal clear and sparkled with a smattering of bewitched stars. Her hair sparkled as it matched the color of the red along the wall; Harry felt a twinge of deja vu as he noticed the streamers were green, red, blue, and black, just as they were in the Time Globe...  
Dumbledore was standing alone at the faculty's table, which had been set along the far wall. He appeared to be waiting for something, and Harry wondered vaguely what it was. Glancing around the room, he noticed that Snape and Bailey were standing off to one side of the dance floor, talking with their heads rather close together.   
A feeling of unreality swept over him as he looked around. Was he really going to this dance with his "crush"? Was it all real? He pinched himself and smiled; it was...  
She smiled at him, tucking one loose strand of hair behind her ear as she caught his own rather nervous smile. Her eyes glowed with green energy, blessing him with their emerald depths.   
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Cho was standing along the edge of the dance floor, and looking rather forlornly at the happy dancers. Harry winced and looked away, knowing exactly what she was thinking of. With a crash, the rest of reality sank in, and he sighed. There would never be a day when Harry would not think of the death he had caused.  
Arlé smiled as a menu came up before her, delighted, and poked him in the side. "Stop looking so depressing, you're pulling me down," she joked, smiling as she ordered her meal. It appeared in front of her with a soft whoosh, and she sniffed at the aromas appreciatively before digging into the noodles.  
Harry ordered his food quickly, determined to spend as much time on the dance floor with her as he could.   
What was it about her that attracted him to her, he wondered as they ate and talked idle talk. She was calm and reserved at times, while at other times she could be frighteningly powerful, almost as if she didn't know her own strength... And yet she had the Dark Mark, a major cause of concern with Ron and Hermione. Ron's angry remark to him about her echoed back at him: When she turns you over to You-Know-Who, you'll know who your real friends are.   
She wouldn't... would she?  
They finished their meal just as the band was finishing a fast number, and their chords echoing the start of another song were slow and obviously minor, as the lead vocalist said, "We wrote this song after reading a bit of Muggle tragedy called 'Romeo and Juliet' The tragedy involves a series of events that were unavoidable and, well, tragic." He received a few laughs from this, and continued, "These two 'star-crossed lovers' were born into rival families, one a Capulet and one a Montague, and they happened upon each other at a party. Without further ado, I give you the song 'Night to Remember...'" The band launched fully into the dominating minor chords.  
Ron jumped to his feet and offered his hand to Hermione, who looked up at him with a playful grin that was quite unlike herself. They moved away from the table, and Harry turned to Arlé.  
She grinned and got to her feet. Harry almost tripped as his foot got caught on chair leg, but she grabbed his arm and he steadied himself. "Please tell me you know how to dance," she pleaded jokingly.  
"Not really," Harry blushed, and Arlé nodded, hiding a giggle behind her hand.   
"What better time to learn than now?" They walked to a corner of the dance floor, where she positioned his hands accordingly; one on her waist and the other one in her hand. "You have to lead, Harry," she said softly after a moment's pause. He shook his head and muttered, "I don't know how."  
"Get the rhythm of the music into your head first, and focus on what the others are doing." He glanced around at the people nearby, and then, as the melody began, it clicked in his mind.  
The male lead vocalist began the melody.  
  
"At first glance this I knew   
You would be the one  
To which I could give of my life,  
Until the years were done."  
  
The female voice was sweet but melancholy, reminding Harry of Arlé.   
  
"Please do not speak to me  
Do not one word of me ask  
For all my kinsmen would kill thee,  
If you would take off thy mask."   
  
They flowed together like they had been dancing together all their lives, the music floating around them; whether by accident or chance, they had maneuvered to the middle of the crowd. Arlé slid her hand along his arm and rested both hands on either side of his neck, drawing him closer. Students around them were slowing to look at them, and Harry blushed as he ducked beside her ear and said, "I never knew I could dance this well."  
"I was the one that taught both of my brothers to dance," she responded, her voice soft even near his ear. "They were never as good as you, though. You haven't stepped on my foot once."  
"Shush, you're going to jinx me!"  
She laughed, a bell-like tonal quality that almost made him shiver with delight. As the singers increased in intensity while nearing the end, time seemed to slow for Harry.  
  
Dear Juliet, I wait for the sunrise  
Fair lady, I wait for the dawn  
When we forget our names  
And our new life together is born.  
  
I give you a night to remember  
For all eternity  
Now throw aside your name   
And share this beginning with me...  
  
  
Arlé smiled as the song ended; Harry could see tears in her eyes and wished for the umpteenth time that she would explain herself to him. There was so much to her that he didn't know, so much that he wanted to know...   
Her arms slid from around his neck, leaving his neck exposed to the cooler air around. The hair on his neck bristled as he let go of her, and she nervously swiped at her eyes.  
"Erif..." He began, but was interrupted by a twinge of pain from his scar. Of all the times, he groaned inwardly, and was about to lead her off of the dance floor when Ron cut in.  
"Wow, Erif, you sure know how to teach people to dance."  
"Maybe you should take a class or two with her, Ron," Hermione groaned playfully, rubbing her feet.  
"I do know how to dance!" Ron replied hotly, and Hermione smiled.   
"Calm down, Ron, I was joking." They wandered back to the table, Harry's statement aborted in the nick of time. If Hermione and Ron had heard what he was about to say... Would they have approved?  
Arlé squeezed his hand and murmured briskly, "We'll take a walk outside later." Apparently she wanted to hear what he had begun to say.  
The band struck up a faster number, but Harry's mind remained on the melancholy words of the previous song. "For all my kinsmen would kill thee/if you would take off thy mask..."   
  
***  
  
She drew him outside at around ten o'clock, intent on hearing what he would have to say. She noticed his nervous backward glance as they walked out into the balmy early autumn air, but chose to ignore it. She pushed down the desire to glance back as well.  
Erif rubbed her arm slowly, knowing that with the double dose she had taken right before the dance she would be all set until tomorrow morning. Yet still it itched, making her wish for a long-sleeve instead of this light but comfortable dress. She noticed with some concern that Harry rubbed at his forehead as if it was bothering him, and wondered what exactly was the matter with his scar. Hadn't it interrupted him after that remarkable song...?   
They walked for some distance through the gardens, and something glittering in the distance beside the Greenhouses made her pause midstep.  
"What's that?" she asked, pointing toward the place where she had just seen it flash.   
"What was what?" He mused, turning sharp green eyes in the direction she had motioned.   
Harry turned back to her, eyes wide. "'The fifth and sixth--'"  
"'Are beside the Greenhouses.'" She had taught him the rough translation of the odd language the same day he had asked her to go to the Ball with him. He had it memorized, but they had decided not to bring the information to Dumbledore yet.  
Now Erif glanced back behind her, trying to see inside the Great Hall but failing. "Do you think Summer and Snape have left the dance?"  
"If the Gates are being activated, then who else would be over there?" Harry responded, and he pulled her closer, grasping his wand in his left hand. She wished strongly that she could have her wand at her side. She settled for gazing longingly at Harry's wand, and he caught her gaze. "Should we go check it out?"  
"Most definitely," she said, and her eyes must have betrayed her sudden anxiety. Going to "check something out" with a person who was famous for finding trouble, without a wand, in a dress...  
"Accio!" he muttered and a moment later, her wand landed neatly in his hand. He handed it to her and she thanked him. He put his fingers to his lips and motioned her closer to the Greenhouse, where they hid within the shadows four green eyes intent on their surroundings.  
After a few tense moments of waiting, voices could be heard.  
"It's coming back... the Dark Lord knows..." Snape uttered, and Summer nodded agreement.  
"It's harder to resist the pull this time," Summer mused, and Erif felt the same way about herself. She was extremely grateful for the potion she had just taken, or undoubtedly she would be pulled by her mark.  
Snape nodded and help his wand out a little further. "I have to admit its pull is stronger than I can control sometimes..."  
"Yes... I'm just wishing that he never finds out that I am still alive..."  
Snape gripped her arm and whispered, "You don't think he knows? Surely the protections we put up around you..."  
"May not be enough. We put them up after You-Know-Who was destroyed by that curse that was supposed to kill Harry. Who knows how much strength he has increased since he came back..." She ducked her head and Erif realized that Summer was far stronger than she had made her out to be. "Where are those Gates he sent us out here to find anyway?"  
"Dumbledore didn't realize that there were more than two of them..." Snape cursed loudly, glad for the change of subject, and Summer put her hand on his arm reassuringly.   
"He knows what he's doing. I don't think that there are more than the four we've found so far..."  
"Are you sure, Summer?"  
Erif wanted to shout that there were seven, but Harry touched her arm before she could jump out and run towards them. He shook his head and nodded at them, then back at the Great Hall, and his eyes rested on hers again.  
She nodded and fought down the desire to grab his hand. What were they doing out here, spying on two of their teachers who obviously knew more about the subject than either she or Harry did...  
Now that was untrue... She knew that Summer and Snape both thought that they had only four Gates to guard, but in actuality there were seven...  
Someone grabbed at her arm from behind, and at first she thought it was Harry. But Harry spun with a gasp, disturbed from his silent reverie by the violent motion and a twinge of pain from his scar, and pointed his wand behind Erif, his eyes bright. She ducked as one of the icy hands came around for her mouth, intending to silence her, but the other one held tight to her arm as he dragged her back into the shadows. Harry cried, "Expelliarmus!" and she could hear the sound of a wand clattering against the side of the Greenhouse as her assailant cursed softly.  
Snape and Summer came running, lighting their wands with swift cries of "Lumos!" and with twin cries of "Stupefy" dropped both Erif and the attacker to the grass.   
She struggled to her feet shakily, more frightened than hurt, and backed up swiftly from the still form. She roughly bumped into Harry, who grabbed her arm as if by holding onto her he could protect her from the menace. Snape glared down at the form, and then gasped in a quite un-Snape-like move. "Malfoy," he whispered, and Summer leaned over him carefully. He growled, a low yet audible sound in the stillness of the night.  
She turned back to Erif and Harry, who stared numbly at her, both sets of eyes wide with fright. "We have some explaining and discovering to do," Summer said as Snape conjured a stretcher for Malfoy.  
  
(*A/N: Hey, I'm sorry I have to leave it off at such a climax, but to make you feel a bit better, I've also included the full song that the Group "Smashing Pumpkins" had written. Thank you for reviewing! Enjoy!*) 


	14. Song Lyrics (Romeo and Juliet)

A Night to Remember (c) 2002  
  
At first glance this I knew,  
You would be the one  
I could give of my life, forever  
Until the years were done.  
  
Please do not speak to me  
Do not one word of me ask  
For all my kinsmen would kill thee,  
If you would take off thy mask.  
  
My dear sweet Capulet, one kiss  
From thy rosy lips to mine  
Would give me greater pleasure  
Than drinking of sweetest wine.  
  
I'd rather that stars would fall  
Than live within this lie.  
To say that I would love you,  
Would lead us both to die.  
  
I'd forsake my name in a heartbeat  
If it guarantee you were mine  
A kiss my dear lady,  
A treasure sweeter than wine.  
  
But that I loved thee, Montague,  
My kinsmen would surely hate.  
For Capulet I am, and shall I stay  
Unless you are willing to wait.  
  
Dear Juliet, I wait for the sunrise  
Fair lady, I wait for the dawn  
When we forget our names  
And our new life together is born.  
  
I give you a night to remember  
For all eternity  
Now throw aside your name   
And share this beginning with me 


	15. Explanations

CHAPTER 14: EXPLANATION  
  
Arlé was staring down at Malfoy, a look torn between hatred and compassion on her pretty face, while Harry stood further back from the hospital bed. How could it be that she could feel any sort of emotion for this boy that had tried to kill her? After all of his coldness and harshness toward her, after all the things he had done to Harry... He winced as his scar twinged annoyingly. Now he understood what it was trying to warn him about...  
She looked away after a moment or two, shivering in the now chilly night air, and Harry pulled her into a light embrace. "Are you okay?" He asked her softly, watching both the door to Madame Pomfrey's office and Malfoy's bed, where the Slytherin boy was firmly tied down with magic. Snape and Bailey had gone in there almost fifteen minutes ago and hadn't come out yet. And Malfoy... he was acting incredibly strange; snarling at anyone who came too near, mostly emitting strange growls from his throat. Harry could almost guess now how Sirius must act by listening and watching Malfoy.  
"Yes, I just..." she trailed off and continued after a long moment, "I just don't understand. If You-Know-Who had taken Malfoy by force, as we had thought in the beginning, why did he let him go?"  
"Maybe Bailey will explain it to us."  
Arlé snorted. "Summer is often secretive, and Snape would quite frankly rather award us detention for listening in on their conversation or accuse us of snogging where we weren't supposed to..." Harry had to laugh at that one.   
"He would," he hastily agreed, and then they both froze as Malfoy snarled.   
"Draco," Arlé soothed, and her voice took on a lilting quality as she spoke directly to him. She drew away from Harry's embrace and grasped Malfoy's arm. "He's not feverish, yet he feels warm, and its like he's living in another world, where everyone is an enemy..." She shook her head and drew her hand back as he growled at her, and continued, "I feel compelled to help him, yet I do not know how..."  
Harry moved to her side. "It seems similar to Snuffles. Bailey said that he would snarl at everyone who came near, and try to bite them..." She glanced at him before staring intently down at Malfoy again, and the Slytherin reached out and his hand grasped hers as if of its own volition.  
She brushed back some of the hair that had fallen out of the clip, and touched Malfoy's forehead briefly. "I wonder..." she mused under her breath, and Harry could see her brow furrow in concentration as she shut her beautiful green eyes.  
"Ardesco..." A strange light seemed to flow from Arlé as she uttered this. Harry felt compelled to answer her definitively with, "Fulminis," but Malfoy snarled at her, breaking the trance, and the light receded. "Not yet..." she whispered sadly, and Malfoy dropped his hand from Arlé's.  
"What...?" Harry asked, wondering what he had said. She jumped at the sound of his voice and her eyes clouded with confusion.   
"What?" She asked him and before he could explain, the door creaked open and Snape and Bailey walked in.  
Bailey looked down at Malfoy and shook her head. Turning to Snape she said cryptically, "They way they respond is remarkably the same."  
"It must be the same thing then. But is it a curse or a potion?"  
"Or something else?"  
Bailey motioned them inside the office as Madame Pomfrey bustled out into Malfoy's room. They sank into chairs lined up along one side of the wall, wondering if Snape's vicious temper would shine through and grant them both detentions...  
"We need to talk." Bailey pulled a chair over in front of them and Snape quickly followed suit. "Why were you out near the Greenhouses?"  
Harry looked over at Arlé, who nodded solemnly and began haltingly. "We came outside to discuss something, and I noticed a glint of something near the Greenhouse. We came to investigate."  
Snape sneered and said, "But that's not all you have to say, is it? You never go and investigate for the sake of it; there had to have been an ulterior motive."  
She looked wide-eyed at Harry and her emerald eyes asked him so many questions, none of which he could answer. She sighed and said, "We read something about Gates in a book... And we saw something flashing and assumed it was a Gate being opened." She paused, knowing immediately that she had made a fatal error and left gaps in her story.   
"Why would you assume it was a Gate?" Bailey asked, her bronze eyes narrowing suspiciously, and Harry knew she had cornered them.   
Arlé's green eyes flashed in his direction before she answered hesitantly, "I overheard you two and Professor Dumbledore talking about Gates, and sending Parvati home through one."  
Snape sighed exasperatedly and snarled, "What else did you hear us talking about?"  
She didn't answer, and Snape leaned in closer, pressing his point. "What else?"  
She shook her head and said, "Nothing else."  
He obviously knew she was lying, but he did not comment further, which surprised Harry greatly.   
Bailey diverted the subject and asked, "What book did you read this out of?"  
" 'Hogwarts, A History,'" Arlé supplied.   
"That book doesn't mention it."  
"Yes it does!" Arlé blurted.   
Snape and Bailey exchanged a startled look.   
"Where?" Professor Bailey asked slowly.   
Arlé blushed, "I was able to read the language that the book said no one could decipher..."  
"What did it say?"   
Arlé recited the entire passage, and Snape and Bailey exchanged another look. "So there were more than four..." Snape hissed.  
"This means that You-Know-Who definitely knew about the Gates being opened this weekend..."  
As they were speaking, the door creaked open and Professor Dumbledore entered. "I came as soon as Parvati was home and you two hadn't come back... I feared the worst." He acknowledged Harry and Arlé with a nod and asked, "Voldemort sent Malfoy back? I assume in a bad condition."  
Bailey nodded. "He is showing the same instincts as Black is, without any link to why or how he is acting this way. He would probably have killed Arlé if we hadn't been there."  
Dumbledore looked Arlé over a second time, as if assessing her for wounds, and nodded. "Are you all right?" He asked softly, and she nodded, obviously not trusting her voice.  
"I must ask you two, Summer and Severus, to return to the Ball. Who knows what else Voldemort--" Summer and Arlé flinched at the rough sounding name, but Dumbledore continued without amending as Harry usually did around his friends. "--could throw at us even as we speak." He waited until Snape and Bailey had left and then turned to Arlé and Harry with bright blue eyes.  
"Potter, Deerflada, would you please come with me? I have a few things to discuss with both of you." He led the way to his office, pausing only to utter the password "Snickers". They followed him up the winding staircase, Harry mindful that he didn't tread on the back of Arlé's dress as they climbed.  
As they entered, Fawkes called out a long quavering note in a tone that Harry had never heard before. Fawkes swept from his perch and landed on Arlé's outstretched hand, and she paused for a long moment as if drawing strength from the large bird.  
They sank gratefully into the chairs before Dumbledore's desk, Harry reveling in the familiar yet different feel of the place. Here was where he had relived the events of the previous year... Cedric's death, Voldemort's rise, Priori Incantatum, and seeing the shades of his mother and father...  
"You must keep this to yourselves," Dumbledore began slowly, tenderly, and Harry looked up. He seemed to understand Harry's feelings about this office.  
"Professor, did you hear what I was telling Sum... Professor Bailey and Professor Snape?" Arlé demanded just as softly.  
"I did indeed." He steepled his fingers and sank back into his chair, watching Harry more than Arlé. "But I would rather not discuss it now, Deerflada," he continued gently, and she nodded tersely. "We have other more crucial things to discuss.  
"Voldemort--" Arlé winced, and he changed it hastily, "--You-Know-Who is on the move. I'm sure that you have felt it in your scar, Harry?"  
Harry nodded, remembering the twinges during the Ball. With a sudden surge of memory, he realized that Ron and Hermione would probably be worried about him and Arlé, seeing as how trouble always seemed to find him...  
Dumbledore continued, "He is looking for you two. We aren't exactly sure why, but I have some ideas--speculations, you could call them--as to why he is searching for you." He brought an old dusty book onto his desk and set it open to a page. "Can you read this, Arlé?" He asked, putting a long finger on the page and watching intently as her expression changed from sullen to... blank.   
"Praecavio hostus opacus, qui retento clavis aci turris. Proelium cim aviusunci; aviusunci feri praepoted grandim..."  
"Interpret it for us, please."  
She leaned forward, and Harry noticed that the phoenix did so always, cocking his head sideways and appearing to read over her shoulder. "Beware the stranger... dark stranger," she corrected absently, "Who holds the key to the tower... Fight with the lost one, for he will bear great power. Fire, Lightning, and Ice come together as friends... It's a prophesy," she interrupted herself, the red fading from her eyes momentarily. She blinked and sank back into her chair again, rubbing her left temple absently.  
"Keep going," Dumbledore suggested, and she looked down at the page again after a full minute of massaging her temples. "Using any means... to create their ends. Drive hard, Fire, though death lurks in you path. Lightning, fear nothing, stand firm, and fight back. Ice thawed is just as strong; Rescue the others and right what was wronged. The Snake's venom will prove not fatal. Eventually the darkness will fall..." She looked away from the book and asked, "Do you think... is this us?" She asked confusedly, rubbing her arm along the phoenix's crest. "Was this entire book written for us?"  
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, taking the book into his lap and trying to read it.  
"It would appear so," Dumbledore said in response to Arlé's query.   
"Then you're Lightning, Harry, the scar is proof of that. I'm Fire, so who is Ice?"  
"This was written to help us?" Harry asked, placing one finger in that page as a temporary bookmark. "Read this then," and he thrust the book to Arlé, pointing at the first page.   
She slipped her finger in to mark her place, and began translating, "'I write this, not knowing why I do so, but I know that there will come a time when someone will need to use it, and this will make sense to them.'" She paused for a moment and said, "This book was written by Merlin!" She flipped through the pages, excitement building in her thin body.  
Harry caught onto her excitement, and then shuddered as a pain coursed through his scar. "I wish I knew what he is doing," Harry exclaimed, frustrated.   
Dumbledore rose to his feet and swept to the door, with a swift glance at Harry, who was massaging his scar absently. "I'll be right back," was all of an explanation he gave, and quickly slipped through the door and down the stairs.  
Harry leaned closer to Arlé, determined to see what she saw in the strange letters and symbols on the page. He lost track of time while they sat there, close together, breathing her faint smell that reminded him of autumn, and burning firewood on a chilly night.  
Dumbledore swept back in after what felt like minutes to Harry but may have been hours, for all he knew.   
"I think it is best if you both return to the Ball right now." He determined tone told Harry that there was no room for argument, and apparently Arlé heard it too. She closed the book tenderly and asked, "Could I take this up to my room first?"  
Dumbledore shook his head. "That book should stay here in my office. I'd rather no one else saw it, as it could be infinitely valuable in the near future." His eyes glinted with understanding, however, and he tucked the book away carefully. "You may come up here to study it whenever you wish, but do take mind as to who sees you come up here or hears the password. If you think it can help you, then study it." He motioned them to precede him down the stairs, but stayed behind a moment. Harry could just barely hear him speak to the phoenix, "She is the right one for him."  
Harry's ears burned as he and Arlé opened the door and stepped out; did Dumbledore suspect that Harry liked her?  
And a more disturbing thought; was it really that obvious?  
They entered the Ballroom and quickly found Ron and Hermione but Harry stopped before plunging onto the dance floor, feeling the tenseness in her back as he placed his hand on it. Dumbledore headed directly for Bailey and Snape, and spoke hushed words to them. They nodded understanding and fled out of the Hall, unnoticed except by Harry and Arlé, who watched tensely, and then Dumbledore moved to speak to the pianist, who nodded while playing with both of his hands, eyes firmly intent on the page he was reading.   
Harry turned and watched Hermione and Ron for a moment. "I'd say they do make a good couple," he murmured to Arlé.  
She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. "Talk to me," he suggested, and she turned her beautiful head slowly, blinking serenely. He caught his breath unnoticeably and decided, I am in love.   
"You don't want to know what I'm thinking about," she responded smoothly, although her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.  
"When are you going to tell me?" He demanded, grasping her arm.   
She looked up at him with her glittering emerald eyes, and said, as if thinking out loud, "But you won't understand..."  
He sighed, closing his eyes. Did she realize what she was doing to him?  
He let go of her arms and turned from her, ready to stalk away, when he remembered the Time Globe. He spun back, and he could tell by the surprise in her eyes that she remembered the Time Globe well. Some unspoken agreement raced between them, and they remained silent.   
Harry caught Hermione's eyes as he swung around to watch his friends, and noticed in her gaze the subtle suggestion that they had better have an explanation for sneaking off "unsupervised." Harry couldn't help but snort at the ridiculousness of that particular drama in light of what had really happened, but when Arlé looked up at him, he shook his head. Harry was quickly finding out that some things were best left unsaid around members of the opposite sex.   
Whatever component of the song that had moved them to dance before was not present now, and they stood together and waited for Hermione and Ron to join them.   
Dumbledore held up his hands as the band finished playing their song, and as Hermione and Ron came up, he began. "My friends, events have come to pass that can be ignored no further. I would ask all of you to return to your Common Rooms now. I know the Ball has not officially ended yet, but please leave promptly." He paused and turned to McGonogall, who said something to him. "Your Heads of House will be in the Common Room momentarily; please follow your Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl who will lead you back to your Common Rooms."   
Hermione turned and looked at him, her eyes questing for knowledge. He motioned towards the Common Room, and she nodded. "Lead the way," she motioned and they joined in the crowd of confused people heading for their Common Rooms.  
  
***  
  
She listened as Harry explained to Hermione and Ron the incidents of the night; how they had wandered outside and been consequently ambushed by Malfoy, how he had not been in his right mind, and then about the books, and Erif's innate skill at reading them. Ron appeared shocked at this, and looked at her suspiciously, but Hermione had calmed his fears.  
"Ron, she's spoken with me and told me secrets I'd rather not inflict on anyone, but I know she's all right. Lighten up a bit!"  
Ron didn't appear thrilled about the concept but then again neither had Hermione, when Erif had explained to her.   
"So Malfoy's back?" Ron asked, a look of distaste on his freckled features. "I was hoping that one would stay away, I was almost enjoying life without the old ferret."  
"But why is he back?"  
Erif spoke up for the first time since Harry had begun the explanation. "I think it may be because You-Know-Who is done with him. Perhaps he has manipulated his mind to the way he wants him to be. And now he's a spy within the midst of Hogwarts..."  
"You-Know-Who would have to get him out of here again, to get the information out of him," Harry pointed out.  
"He did it once," Erif counterpointed. "He could very well do it again."  
Ron frowned, looking around the deserted Common Room as if something in the room could solve this dilemma for him. Finding nothing that could help him, he sighed and asked, "Well, what do you suggest we do?"  
She shook her head. "I don't know; and quite frankly, I'm too tired to even think straight about all of this. I don't know what to think any more."  
"Well I do," Harry stated decisively, making them all look to him with uncertainty, and a little confusion. "Whatever is wrong with Malfoy ails Snuffles, too, and nobody can figure out what it is. So it's up to us to figure it out." He put his head in his hands suddenly, and Erif could tell by the tightness in his face that he was worried about this idea of his.  
"Do you have a plan?" She queried when he faltered.   
"Yes. But it's dangerous. And it'll never work." He pushed it aside and rose decisively, covering a well-timed yawn with one hand while rubbing his scar thoughtfully. "I'm going to bed now, I can barely see straight."  
"And we still have to get cleaned up," Hermione said, indicating Erif's and her own makeup with distaste.   
Erif was glad she hadn't put as much makeup as Hermione had; it appeared that it would take her a fair amount of time to take it off. But once they retreated to the semi darkness of their dorm, Hermione uttered a soft charm and her face was clean again. She quickly performed the charm on Erif but said thoughtfully, "I don't know, I think I like your hair curly like this. And I think Harry does, too."  
"Honestly, Hermione, I don't understand why you want him and I to get together. I mean, we're not at all alike..." She trailed off as Hermione pinned her with a piercing stare.   
"I see it in both of you... that fierce determination to live, no matter what hinders you, no matter how large the obstacle, you calculate how to get past it. Whether you see it or not, you're both..." she paused, carefully choosing her next words. "Both... made for each other. You and he would be support for each other, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on... I envy you that connection, but I think even Snape would agree that you were made for each other. And that's saying something."   
Hermione's mouth twitched upward and she drew Erif into a very different embrace from the kind Harry had given her.  
"Hermione, how can I ever repay you?"  
"Keep Harry safe. Just keep him safe..."   
Erif promised that she would.  
  
  
(*A/N) Please write what you think! I want to hear if you like it, hate it (nicely, please!!) and if you want me to continue!! Please review!!!!) 


	16. Confrontation

CHAPTER 15: CONFRONTATION  
  
Harry sighed and threw his Potions homework aside; although he knew he should be concentrating on it, his mind was elsewhere. Besides, he thought grimly, what use will Potions do for me when Voldemort comes? He pushed that thought aside angrily, but not without some humor. None of his friends would appreciate the dry humor in that thought.   
  
As if in mirror image with Harry, Ron threw down his quill and sighed. "I just don't understand why she's making us do these star charts again! We did them last year, isn't that enough for the old bat?" He was of course, complaining about Trelawney and her large work load.   
  
The day after the Ball was not a very active one. Harry had gotten up just in time for lunch, and he had not seen Arlé up and about yet. He didn't suppose that she was still asleep, but that she was wandering around the school, as seemed her style, sorting things out in her mind. And she had a lot more to sort out than Harry: a whole book more, in fact. He'd even seen Ginny, who had told them both that she was going to the Herbology Greenhouse to help Professor Sprout with some of her plants.   
  
"Why did she assign it for tomorrow?" Ron continued, groaning as he stretched his back muscles, They had been sitting at the table in the Common Room since they had come back from lunch, struggling through their work.   
  
Harry glanced out the window wistfully; a sunny day gone to waste with work that would not be finished until tomorrow... Why not spend the day with something--or more correctly, someone--more worth his time?  
  
"I'm done," Harry announced. At Ron's unbelieving look, he amended, "Done for right now, that is. I'll see you later."   
  
"All right. While you're out there, could you think up some more violent deaths for me? I'm running out of ideas... I've already consulted last year's charts." He grimaced as he held up the old parchment. "But she was right about one thing: this sky chart did come in handy."  
  
Harry smiled and told Ron that he would think of some.  
  
He left his books in an untidy pile on the table and before he knew it he was out beside the lake, enjoying quite possibly the last summery day before the onset of autumn and colder temperatures. The trees around Hogwarts were slowly changing colors, brilliant reds and yellow peeking out from behind varying shades of green. The lake reflected the brilliance of the sky and the colorful foliage on the other side, soft ripples flowing over the surface but not marring the overall beauty of the scene.  
  
By this time next year, would the trees be gone, the lake dried out, and the halls of the school vacant of students? Would the school itself meet a horrible fate that would forever mar its beauty and mystery?  
And where would he and his friends be?   
  
Better not to think of that; but the little that he did think about had sobered his mind and calmed his rioting thoughts. Thoughts that still dwelled on memories of the past night and its many mysteries...  
  
A breeze picked up, catching his hair and blowing it askew even further than it already was. His thoughts ventured back to Sirius, the gaunt face he had emblazoned in his mind stark and death-like still. He liked to imagine that he had gotten a bit more food than in Azkaban, the infamous Wizard Prison, but he could never picture his godfather with rosy full cheeks, nor without the slight edge in his eyes that made him appear like an escaped criminal.  
  
He stood after a few minutes contemplation, not exactly sure where to go from here, but knowing for certain that he didn't want to go back to the Common Room and slave over the books until he grew cross-eyed. He still had another day in which to do the work...  
  
He found his feet tracing his path towards Dumbledore's office before he knew where exactly he was headed. He gave the gargoyle the password and stepped cautiously up the stairs.   
  
Voices echoed down to him before he reached the top, and he stood absolutely still, straining to hear.  
  
"I'll ask you again: are you sure she can handle this? It sounds like quite a heady concept..."  
  
"Severus, I know she can. The mark on her arm holds quite a different meaning from the one on ours. I... suppose I have wished this one upon myself, but she was born into hers."  
  
"And yet she can control it?"  
  
"Yes, although she would benefit from a teacher like Adalf. My feeble skills in that area have reached the limits."  
  
"But her father is not around to give her direction, Summer. You are the only one who understands fully what she must do."  
  
"Not even I understand completely. She will fill her own path..."  
  
"Welcome," Dumbledore said, having just entered the office from a further room.  
  
Harry quickly realized that Arlé was not in the office, and he retreated down the stairs and fled to the safety of the hallway just beyond the gargoyle.   
  
He was confused... Snape and Bailey had obviously been speaking of Arlé, but what had Bailey meant; "The mark on her arm holds quite a different meaning from the one on ours..." How was it different?  
  
And her father's name was Adalf? He committed that name to memory, determined to search for it when he had the chance.  
  
Harry heard her voice long before he saw her, but that did not phase him in the least. She sounded frustrated, however, making him pause for a moment before turning toward the sound.  
  
He followed it to the Infirmary, and peeked in to see her back to him. Her hair was still curly as it was last night, and waving in the breeze wafting through the Hospital Wing. She was shaking her head angrily, glaring at... who was that? He looked slightly familiar, with his greying brown hair and tall lean body...  
  
"I'm taking my son home, Madame Pomphrey," he cut through Arlé's words, ignoring her entirely as he focused most of his attention on the third occupant of the room. The nurse shook her head as well, but her denial was not as severe as Arlé's.   
  
"I cannot allow you to do this," she responded, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at the older man.  
  
"I will take my son home with me right now. I know what is wrong, and I am confidant that between myself and my servants, we will be able to correct it. Besides, I don't want him here with all these MudBloods," he spat, directing his sharp grey eyes at Arlé, who glared back.  
  
Now Harry knew who this man was. He had greyed a lot, almost as if his Voldemort's rising again had brought back some old worry...   
  
"I am just as Pure of blood as you are, Malfoy," she said, and continued, "and what's more, I think your son has a bit of MudBlood within him... something about a ferret comes to mind." Her fingers were clenched tightly around her wand   
  
The elder Malfoy stared at her for a moment, hatred brewing in his eyes, and with one smooth movement, had caught her across the face with a swift backhand. Madame Pomphrey let out a cry and pulled on Malfoy's arm to forestall another attack.   
  
Arlé tumbled to the floor without a sound, but caught herself before her face could hit the tile of the Hospital Wing. She put a hand up and touched the blood oozing from her split lip, and glared up at him. Her eyes radiated only cold fury, and shone bright with the red light that had so often made Harry wonder.  
  
Understanding lit Malfoy's eyes with a keen light of their own, and he pulled his arm from the nurse's. "Perhaps you are," he mused. Pomphrey ushered Malfoy into her office with reassurances.  
  
Harry didn't wait for Pomphrey to come back out; he dashed forward and sank to his knees beside Arlé. She collapsed with a sob into his arms, and he hardly had time to utter startled reassurances to her before she looked up into his green eyes with her own emerald-and-rubies and whispered, "Let's get out of here."  
  
They left swiftly, but not before Harry had grabbed some tissues to stop the bleeding. "What was that about?"  
  
"Malfoy was taking Draco back." She sniffed and accepted one of his tissues, wincing as she applied pressure to her lip. But she said nothing further until he had led her out to the front steps, and sank down upon the cold stone.   
  
"Why were you in there?" He asked softly.  
  
"I..." she narrowed her eyes as her brain sifted through her confused thoughts. "I guess I felt that I had a connection to Draco, maybe he's part of that prophesy... I don't want to think about what that man could do to his own son for his Master."  
  
Harry nodded; it seemed a reasonable request for the father to wish to take his son home--except for the fact that he was a Death Eater, a fact that many had swept under the rug for lack of evidence.  
  
"I wonder which he loves more," Arlé said, her eyes still full of tears. She turned onto what seemed to Harry an entirely different path of thought. "What does he have against MudBloods?"  
  
"It's because of his 'Master.' He's determined to 'purge the world of half breeds.'" Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his tousled black hair, closing his eyes as a beam of sunlight shot out from behind a white cloud, filling him with its light. He opened them and looked at Arlé; she was staring up at the sun as if accusing it of something, her now completely emerald eyes narrowed.  
  
"But I'm not a half breed!" She protested after a time of silence, bringing Harry's mind back to the present.   
  
"He just does it to everybody. Don't worry about it," Harry offered, knowing that his advice would be rejected.  
  
"But I do worry... about everything." She pulled the tissue away from her lip, eyeing the blood with disgust before reapplying it to her mouth.  
  
Harry's scar blazed to life, a painful reminder that Voldemort was still out there. She reached out and squeezed his arm, and he squinted at her through the sudden pain, at her sweet yet sad smile that reminded him eerily of pictures of his mother.   
  
He put his head in his hands, waiting for release. She curled one arm around his shoulders protectively, giving him a solid rock to concentrate on as the world hazed a little. Footsteps could be heard, and Harry could feel Arlé tense up. Despite the pain in his forehead, he looked up at her face and watched as the look of panic subsided.   
  
"It was Summer... She's not coming out here though. Are you okay? Do you want to get up?"  
  
"In a minute," Harry grunted, wondering what this meant... Was Voldemort pleased with stealing Malfoy back, or was it something else entirely?  
  
She leaned her head against his own for a long while as the pain receded from his mind, and then murmured, "What does it feel like?"  
  
Harry didn't realize that she was speaking to him until she looked him in the eye, angling her head so she could do so properly. "It's a fire and a storm, all in the same moment. It feels like ice, numbing your brain, and fire, setting your thoughts ablaze..." She shuddered at the word "fire" and he chose to ignore it instead asking about something else. "When are you going to tell me?"  
  
"Tell you what?" She asked softly, moving into a more comfortable position in the crook of his shoulder. They both sat back against the unyielding stone, and Harry took her warm reassuring weight on his arm as a token of good will.  
  
"Tell me about all these secrets in your life." She tensed up on his arm, and he quickly assured, "Fine if you don't want to, no pressure."  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes daring him to deny what she was about to say. "How can you put up with me? How could you even want to talk to me, after all this that I put you through?"  
  
"Because you're my friend," he insisted, and drew her into an awkward hug. She grasped him around the neck in a death-hold, and he tilted her head up to look into her eyes. He tried to radiate all the kindness he could and was rewarded with a smile as she pulled closer.   
He closed his eyes, bending his head to hers...  
  
"What are you doing?" A cold male voice demanded from behind them. Harry's eyes snapped open, adrenaline rushing through his veins, hand firmly grasped around his wand before he realized it. He released the well worn wood and it clattered to the steps guiltily.  
  
The intruder grasped one shoulder of each person and hauled back, pulling her out of his arms. "Spare me your excuses," Snape snarled mercilessly as Harry opened his mouth to explain, "I don't want to hear them." Harry staggered to his feet, fire lighting his eyes with a dangerously hard glint. Snape glared back, his eyes boring into Harry's. "Get back inside before I give you detention."  
  
Harry bent down and scooped up the wand, and they walked into the school. When they were a good thirty meters away from the steps he looked back and paused; the silhouette slumped from its proud, straight stance into some stance Harry had never seen Snape wear.   
As he watched, Bailey appeared seemingly out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around his bony shoulders, her face inches from his.  
  
Arlé could just barely hold in a chuckle, her eyes sparkling at the sight. She pulled on his arm as he continued to stare, and they walked away from the teachers.  
  
Harry thought about pulling her to him again, but realized that their moment was shattered. Snape always seemed to get in the way...   
What did he have against them being a couple anyway?  
  
He shot a glance at her face and noticed that she was tight again, her eyebrows knit in thought.  
  
"What?"   
  
"I think I left that book in the Hospital Wing; Dumbledore had let me take it from his office because Summer and Snape needed to talk to him..." She shook her head and stopped walking. "Do you think   
Malfoy...?"  
  
Harry spun about and raced to the Hospital Wing.  
  
***  
  
She followed, dabbing her lip doggedly as they ran. So close, she thought, so close to revealing it all, so close to getting this weight off my shoulders...  
  
She looked over at him, wondering what she had ever done to deserve him. After all of this, it appeared that he loved her with intensity, but every touch, every kiss, was a silent agony. She knew that You-Know-Who was after Harry, and because of circumstances beyond her control, she, too, was hunted. However, she had the upper hand at the moment; You-Know-Who did not know her name, but knew of her nature.   
  
Malfoy knew her now, knew her secret because of her lack of self control. Or, if he didn't know, he had guessed. Malfoy was not a stupid man. The intelligence gleamed in his eyes when she looked at him. If he knew her by sight, he would know her alibi, for Draco knew it. And now, if Malfoy had seen the book, and made another connection... Her hand plunged into her pocket, nervousness prompting her to reach for the reassuring touch of wood.  
Her hand came out empty, and she barely had time to register this when they entered the Medical Wing.   
  
The door to the office was firmly closed, but she could hear voices inside as apparently Malfoy and Pomphrey were still arguing over whether she could release Draco into his father's care.   
  
The book lay where it had been deserted, and Erif breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. She skimmed through it quickly making sure no pages were missing, and then said to Harry, "I should return this to Dumbledore."  
  
He hastily agreed, rather hurried to get out of the Wing before Malfoy came out and found them there. As they left, he said, "I want to tell him about this anyway."  
  
"Someone's probably already told him."  
  
"I want to make sure he knows, because if you think he's important for the prophesy..." He trailed off. "You think he's the 'Ice' person the book speaks of," he accused.  
  
"I said nothing of the sort," she denied, "But I'm open to any options we can get. Harry, if the 'Ice' person isn't found, this book is useless."  
  
"But Malfoy?" He shook his head as if not believing that she could even think something that vile.  
  
After a moment of purposeful walking, he gasped and held his hand open. He looked down at the wand and exclaimed, "This isn't my wand!"  
  
"It's mine," she said, recognizing instantly the distinctive burn marks accumulated on that fateful night... In a particularly deep gouge, she could see a bit of the phoenix feather that made up the core.   
However, the wand did not function better or worse than it had before the scoring, so she would not have it replaced. "But how did you get it?"  
  
"You must have put it down on the steps," he assumed.  
  
She shrugged, and then they were at the gargoyle statue. Harry gave the password and they rose steadily to Dumbledore's office.   
  
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk with a slightly familiar bowl of some silver substance before him. She couldn't place exactly where she had seen it before, but she knew she had. As they watched, a miniature Summer rose out of the silvery stuff, shaking her head. "She needs more than I can give. Even though I can control what little bit I have, she has so much more of it. She needs a teacher more attuned to its... pull."  
  
"Professor?" He looked up from his bowl and his blue eyes gazed unwaveringly at them. "Was she talking about me?"  
  
He merely smiled and from the set look he had on his face, she knew he would reveal nothing. With a click, she realized that the bowl was a Pensieve; her father had often used one when some unknown stress pressed him, or when he had too many thoughts to count.  
  
"Professor, did you know that Lucius Malfoy has come to reclaim his son?" Dumbledore sighed and the wizened warrior facade faded into a bone-weary traveler.  
  
"Yet another problem that has fallen out of my hands. I can do nothing to stop Lucius from taking him back," he opened his hands, palm up. "Thus Voldemort has a way to listen in on Hogwarts, and all that happens within these walls."  
  
"There must be something we can do."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't think you can do anything about this. It would be harsh indeed if I ever asked you to do something."  
  
"What exactly is wrong with Malfoy? Can't you do something about it?" Harry asked, leaning forward intently. Erif wondered how much of Harry's eagerness was directed toward the fact that if they find out what is wrong with Malfoy, they could help Sirius as well.  
  
"You must never discuss this again, not even in the sanctuary of this office." The agreed, but Erif couldn't help but wonder how large of a schism this would cause between Harry and the already suspicious Ron.  
  
Dumbledore sank back into his chair and continued, "Draco and Black exhibited the same signs: growling, biting, general animalistic reactions. Professor Bailey has decided--and I concur--that this is the effect of the dementor's greatest weapon: the dementor's kiss."  
  
Harry let out a long breath and said in a tight voice, "So he really is gone."  
  
She could vaguely remember something about the dementors, the guardians of Azkaban, but not enough to understand what they were speaking of. "What is the dementor's kiss?"  
  
"You know that dementors are creatures that feed off the happiness of others?" When she nodded, he continued, "They suck souls from people... turning them into little less that shells of what they used to be..."   
  
Dumbledore picked up where Harry left off. "They have reverted back to their animal instincts, as only mindless creatures do. These victims will not listen to reason, choosing instead to go with the decision that will effect them now. They live only for the moment."  
  
She shook her head angrily at that thought. "And we let these dementors into our prison? Can they be trusted, if they will perform this thing on anyone?"  
  
"Fudge believes that they can, but I believe that they are on the side of Voldemort, and that it may only be a matter of time before they switch sides and release all of the accused Death Eaters back into Voldemort's service."  
  
"And the Minister of Magic does not even believe you?"  
  
"Fudge thinks I've gone crazy: 'With all those weird turns last year, I wonder if he should be trusted,'" Harry said in a fair imitation of Fudge's voice.   
  
She sighed, running a hand through her red hair. "Is there any way to reverse it?"  
  
"Who would want to?" Dumbledore asked wryly. "The only recipients until now have been criminals."   
  
She looked from Dumbledore to Harry and was torn by the lost look on his face, but she couldn't bring herself to comfort him, realizing how her own tears threatened to flow.   
  
Standing, she realized that Dumbledore had been watching her intently as if he were expecting something from her. With a realization that slapped her across the face, she realized what he wanted from her. Her return look told him, "You think I'm ready?" in no uncertain terms.  
  
"I will support you."  
  
Harry looked from one to the other, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What are you doing?" He demanded suspiciously.  
  
She shook her head, and he sighed, threw an insulted glare at her, and walked out of the office. She watched after his retreating back for a moment, wondering if it were time to tell him the truth...  
  
Erif made to follow him, but Dumbledore moved around the table and caught her arm. "Let him be."  
  
She shook her head, anger rising. Fawkes fluttered over to her shoulder and perched sleepily on it. Erif reached up absently with a hand to run her fingers through his feathers and was startled at the amount that fell into her hand. She looked up at the phoenix and realized how old and frail he looked, well past his prime.   
  
As if sensing where her thoughts were going, Dumbledore stated, "He'll have his Burning Day soon."  
  
She shuddered and looked away from Fawkes, all too aware of the proximity of death by fire... He sang a set of notes though, and to her surprise she understood what he was singing.  
  
"Your time will come, child, and I will be there to meet you..."   
  
  
Okay, I'm sorry about what I did to Snuffles (and maybe a teensy bit sorry about Malfoy...) Please tell me what you think! The next chapter will be a bit shorter than the others, and not as much action, but i needed to fill some things in. But the chapter after that shows promise... Please please please review!!!! :) 


	17. Darkness Biding

CHAPTER 16: DARKNESS BIDING  
  
Harry stormed down the steps, not waiting for the escalator to carry him to the bottom, using every ounce of strength that he possessed to stop himself from screaming at them. He slumped against the wall, stopping the tears before they flowed with the back of his hand. So much to think about, and so little time...  
What else does she have up her sleeve? Some healing power too? Next they'll be telling me she can read minds... He shuddered, knowing all too well that that was a distinct possibility.   
Sirius, gone... His heart pounded with the realization.   
Harry had thought he had known the depths of the Dark Lord's darkness when he had killed Cedric, had redefined his thoughts again when he had witnessed almost firsthand the massacre of Arlé's entire family, but this topped it off.  
He promised that he would avenge all of those needless deaths and tortures...   
His thoughts about Arlé softened a little, understanding her need for distance between anyone else she might get close to...  
His mind darted back to the conversation between Bailey and Snape. "Although she would benefit from a teacher like Adalf..."   
Struck with a sudden inspiration, he pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and scrawled out the full name.   
Adalf Deerflada  
And beneath that he wrote Arlé's name:  
  
Erif Deerflada  
  
He stared at the surname for a moment and then gasped in surprise.  
  
Adalf Reed  
  
And if you turned her name around like so...  
  
Fire  
  
Perhaps this will give me answers... He now knew where to begin searching. He raced to the library, nearly stepping on Mrs. Norris, the nasty janitor Filch's cat, in his hurry. As he strode into the library Madame Pince looked up from her desk with distaste. He could hear her muttering under her breath, "Those kids think they run the castle..."  
Harry pulled out a heavy volume labeled Remarkable Wizards of the Twenty-first Century. In his dream at the end of the summer, hadn't they mentioned the "Reed Powers"? There must be something about Arlé's family name that could give him insight... He set to work with a vengeance, determined to find the answers that Arlé refused to give him.  
  
***  
  
Erif slipped out of the office just in time to meet up with Professor Snape. He scowled at her but was surprised to see her alone, without Harry. She thought she recognized the malicious smirk he tossed in her direction, and she had to remind herself, He's on our side...   
She wandered around the grounds for a long while, hoping she would not run across anyone she knew. She was not much in a mood for talking to people...  
Her thoughts wandered back to Harry. Was it his fault that everyone he was related to was destroyed by Voldemort's hand?  
Her arm burned; she turned it over and looked at it in disgust for a moment, then looked away. When had she taken her potion last? Her brain was too saturated with information to find the answer. She guessed it had been the double dose before the Ball that was finally wearing off, but she didn't want to go find Summer. She would rather be alone in her thoughts...   
Two students were coming her way, and she couldn't tell who they were because the sun was setting directly behind them. She thought she could make out orange hair on one of them, and decided that it might be Hermione and Ron. She could hear their words long before they could see her, and she was about to call a greeting to them when their tones made her stop.  
"--knows what he's doing."  
"Hermione, you can't really believe that she's all right?"  
"Ron, I've already gone over this with you, she showed me something that I can't forget... but she's on our side."  
"Then why does she have the Dark Mark?"  
Erif sat still, glancing down at her forearm. He thought she had the Death Eater's mark? No wonder he was so suspicious of her...  
"It's not the Dark Mark!" Hermione hissed and then added, "Besides if it were, don't you think Dumbledore would be keeping an eye on her?"  
"I don't know, and I know that Dumbledore is a clever man, but perhaps she could have pulled the wool over his eyes?"  
"No. I don't believe that." She shook her head and Erif realized how close they were... if she got up now they would see her.  
They drew up beside the water almost five meters away from where Erif was perched on a tree root, and she tried not to make a sound. Hermione continued, "She's just a normal kid like Harry."  
"Er, haven't you noticed, Hermione, Harry's not normal."  
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "You know what I mean."  
"No, I don't know. Harry's different. He's stronger than us, Hermione. And sometimes he gets distant on me, like he's seeing something no one else can."  
"Harry is a mystery to me," Hermione agreed, and there was deep silence for a time. Erif sneaked a look in their direction and saw that they were not looking in her direction, so she sneaked off unheard. When she glanced back, their bodies were close together, Hermione's head turned up to look at his.  
She hid a smile and darted off past the greenhouses. Someone called her name, and she spun, expecting to meet up with Hermione's angry face. Instead, she saw a round face with bright orange curls peering at her from the door of one of the greenhouses.  
"Ginny! Hi," she said wondering what she was doing out here. So much for having a spare moment for myself.  
"Erif, I found this out here, and I can't figure out who's it is." Ginny held out with trembling fingers a wand. "I don't know what to do with it."  
Erif took the wand and it sparked a little, making Ginny back up from the business end. Erif carefully pointed it the other way and muttered, "I don't know whose it is, it's not marked."  
The ten inch wand was unmarked, glowing slightly. She turned it over in her hands, looking for any sign of ownership. She brought her own next to it, noticing that her oak-and-phoenix feather wand glowed as well. Upon closer examination she realized that her wand was glowing red, while the other wand glowed blue.  
"I don't know whose it is," she stated after a time, lying hard. She knew a certain someone who had been last seen behind the Greenhouses... "Why don't you hold onto it and give it to Professor McGonagall when you get a chance?"  
Ginny's eyes went wide. "No." She shook her head and continued, "You need to take it..." Erif stared at Ginny for a moment and then agreed, wondering what it was about the wand that made the smallest Weasley child so nervous. Perhaps it was the glowing that unsettled her...   
  
***  
  
Harry sighed and shut the book, glancing at the time. He would have to run to get into the Common Room before the curfew was upon him. He slid the book into its shelf alongside the other fifteen or so books he had searched through, squinting at the latest binding, which read, Ancient Runes and Symbols. He had known that book was a long shot, but if the redness on her arm didn't accumulate to the Dark Mark, it must stand from something else.   
He indeed raced through the halls but found no trace of either Mrs. Norris or Filch. As he skidded to a halt and breathed the password to the Fat Lady, she stared down at him with a smirk. She made no comment however and he crept inside.  
Ron and Hermione were sitting on the couch, a chessboard between them. Crookshanks was sitting in Hermione's lap, often obstructing her view with his bushy tail. Ron reached out and touched a piece, and the rook, guessing his intention, scooted in the proper direction. Hermione gasped and stared angrily at the piece that had just moved, as if by skewering it with her glare she could make it move back.  
Arlé was sitting beside them in a giant armchair, a quill tucked behind one ear and what appeared to be the Potions assignment abandoned on her lap as she watched the match. Sitting in a rough semicircle around the fire were four or five second years, all laughing merrily at one joke that was being tossed from person to person. Up on the balcony that led to the boys dorms, Fred and George had identical twin grins as they watched their little brother playing the game.  
Harry felt out of place; everyone here was close, and he felt suddenly distant, unsure of where he belonged. It was apparent that Hermione and Ron had repaired their rift and grown closer; while he was left behind in the dust relationship-wise.  
Arlé noticed him then, and waved a hand at him to come over. He did so, noticing as he walked by the table that his and Ron's homework was still sprawled across it. She moved over in her giant armchair, leaving plenty of space for Harry to sit down.   
Ron greeted him as he sank into the chair, but Hermione didn't even look up. She was pointing at pieces and muttering under her breath, eyes darting across the board.  
"Why don't you two start up a game? We could be here a while," Ron stated, watching as Hermione's hand moved towards first one rook, then another, without actually touching either of them.  
He looked at Arlé, who clearly thought that she was going to be beaten. "I don't know...my brothers never really played it with me. Two of them were too young, and the other one didn't like playing chess..."  
"I thought you said that you had four brothers," Hermione said, glancing up from her board in surprise.  
"I did... but Eric turned to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... I no longer consider him a brother."  
"Is he still alive?"  
"I hope not," Arlé snarled with much hatred.   
"But he was your brother!" Ron added, keeping his voice down. One of the second-years looked back at them; Ron smiled and waved, and he turned around again.  
"He may have been my brother but he's not anymore, even if he is still alive..." Arlé glanced up at Harry and asked, "Are you still up to that game of chess?"  
"Do you have a set?" Harry asked getting up from his seat.   
"Yeah, it's in the dorm." She rose too, her hand brushing his as she did so. Harry walked past Fred and George, who began making kissing noises, making Harry blush ferociously. They watched him as he walked past, grins still on their faces.  
When Harry returned with his set, the twins were no longer perched at the railing (to his relief). As a matter of fact, they were nowhere to be seen, quite possibly a worse situation than actually seeing them face to face.  
Harry shrugged it off; they were probably thinking up ways to send toilet seats home... He met Arlé in front of the fire, the second-years that had been in the spot previously had probably gone up to bed. He placed the board down on the floor, and they began lining up their pieces. Her pieces were a deep blue set of marble, the details hand-crafted by a professional. As if she noticed that he was admiring them, she said, "My father made these for me when I was nine... I'm surprised they survived..." She trailed off uncomfortably and picked up her queen.   
Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, and he was glad when she changed the subject. "Oh, before I forget," she said, and pulled a wand out of her pocket. "Ginny found this outside Greenhouse 3."  
Harry accepted it and turned it over wondrously. "So why didn't Lucius Malfoy take it when he came for his son?"   
"Perhaps he didn't know that Draco had it." She took it back and said, "I'm going to give it to McGonagall tomorrow morning, I don't trust it."  
"I'll take it," he offered, but she shook her head, offering no explanation.   
"Let's play," she stated, avoiding the subject, and Harry dropped it. She moved her piece, and Harry was soon caught up in strategy. Despite her allegation that she was out of practice, she played a very aggressive game and Harry was hard pressed to keep his pieces up with hers.  
He kept bumping hands with her as their pieces swept across the board, and he noticed as he did so that her forearm was slightly red.  
And he couldn't help but wonder—for one fleeting moment—if Draco could possibly be the Ice the legend spoke of...  
***  
  
He shifted on the surface, his mind feeling like it had been tampered with. It was like waking up from a bad dream... only somewhere in the back of his dormant mind, he knew it was real.  
Harsh voices darted through his consciousness, stabbing at the small thoughts he was forming and severing them with brutality, leaving him floating again. He lowered his eyelids automatically as a light came on near him, and he could hear somewhere in the room the flicker and crack of a fire.  
"Did it work?" Demanded a hissing voice close to him. Her felt long cold fingers brush against his arm, and he fought down a shiver.   
"We were able to revive him, it only remains to be seen how much of his mind actually returned." The second voice sounded more human yet no less cold.   
"I hope you aren't wasting my time, my faithful Death Eater," the hissing voice murmured. "If I am found here the consequences could be dire to all involved."  
"Master, I would not wish that you would be found."  
"Good." The silence protruded on his thoughts more than the words did.   
His eyes fluttered open, his curiosity peaked. Blurred shapes flooded his vision and started to take focus.  
"Good, it works," the first voiced hissed. With that voice came the slight feeling that something was out of place...  
A burning pain seared up his arm as the cold fingers touched his forearm, bringing out the mark that caused all of this nonsense in the first place. With that mark came the realization of where he was, and what had happened... He struggled to get up, get away, but was held down by his father's own traitorous hands.   
"Draco, welcome," the hissing voice murmured, and Draco Malfoy looked up into the bright red eyes looming in his vision with his own grey eyes filled with hatred. The face contorted into an evil grin, and the laugh that escaped the snake-like features was more like a hiss. "Keep your eyes on this one, Malfoy, I shall return for him later." And with a flash, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared. His eyes glowed in the spot he had vacated, lingering on as if to tell father and son that he would be watching...   
  
(A/N-- Review please!!!) 


	18. Fighting Fire With Fire

CHAPTER 17: FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIRE  
  
Harry raised his eyes blearily from the text that swam in front of him, watching as Ron stabbed pointlessly at the empty page before him that was supposed to be full of Divination homework. It was Tuesday evening, and they were due to start a Quidditch practice in... he checked his watch. Ten minutes.  
He couldn't go to the library tonight... He knew it would take a long time to finish the Divination homework, and with this bad cold lurking above his head like a dragon about to rear its ugly head, he couldn't concentrate.  
"Ron, this is going to be a horrible practice," He muttered, startling his friend.  
"Yeah, don't I know it," Ron responded, sniffling, and Harry felt a surge of guilt that he had given his cold to Ron. "I can't see straight..."  
"I should cancel it."   
"You can't, we need this practice."  
"Maybe one of your Divination horrors is that you lose your eyesight by... eh, I dunno, maybe a rogue bludger?"  
"Hmm, haven't done that before..." Ron said, hastily writing it on his paper. "Those bludgers are bad enough, it might come true tonight..."  
Harry felt a bone-weary tiredness seeping into his body. Must get some sleep tonight...  
But he wondered how much sleep he would get: nightmares kept intruding on his solitude, driving back his sleep with ferocious intensity, and he could hardly remember what the dreams were about. They had started Sunday night, and he wasn't sure if they were a good or an evil omen.  
"Better go get our brooms," Harry murmured, and Ron nodded. Standing, they stretched tired muscles and ascended to their dormitory. They had solved Ron's broom dilemma by borrowing Neville's, which was actually an older model of the Nimbus. They couldn't tell what the number was by reading the handle; Neville had held onto it so tightly that the number had rubbed off, along with half of the word Nimbus.   
But still, it was a broom, and Harry had decided with Hermione and Arlé that they would buy Ron a broom of his own for Christmas.  
Harry walked onto the Quidditch field with Ron, Harry carrying the brooms and Ron carrying the balls. They stood there shivering for a moment.  
"Can I ride your broom, Harry?" Ron asked softly into the silence.   
"Sure," Harry said, relinquishing his Firebolt to Ron's tender care. He clutched the cloak a little tighter around his slender body to fight the chill, and stood there chattering his teeth.  
Fred and George showed up next, their smiles showing even from a distance. Harry could instantly tell that they had been up to something; if the smiles weren't enough to tip him off, the way they clutched their sides as if trying not to laugh hinted at that conclusion as well.  
"What did you two do?" Harry asked, eyeing them suspiciously.  
This began a tirade of laughter; George fell off of his precarious perch on his broom and merely lay there, roaring with laughter. Fred leaned on Harry, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to end up on the floor beside George.   
Between the laughter and the odd positioning, Ron must have noticed something was amiss and landed smoothly. "What's up?" He demanded, which sparked another round of laughter.  
"Oh, you think you're so funny, George and Fred," called an angry voice as three shadows appeared on the lawn to Harry's left. Angelina Johnson parted from the other two, her wand in hand. Her hood was up over her head, pulled so far down that it almost touched her eyebrows, and as the other two Chasers approached, Harry noticed that they were dressed in the same odd fashion.   
"Oh, we'll get back at you," Katie Bell promised, also brandishing her wand. Behind her, Alicia Spinnet was glaring just as strongly at them.   
"What happened?" Ron demanded again, and Angelina glared at him like this was all his fault.  
She pulled the hood back and crossed her arms, fighting the urge to throw something at the two Weasley twins. Her long hair, which reached down to the middle of her back, was now dyed a sickly shade of hot pink.  
Ron stared at it in horror for a moment and then began laughing as well. Harry smiled a little but didn't laugh, which made Angelina feel a little better about it.  
The other two Chasers pulled their hoods off; Katie was sporting a fashion nightmare in neon blue, while Alicia had medium curls of a bright yellow. "This had better wash out," she sighed, lifting a curl and looking at it angrily. She then glanced over at Katie and started laughing.  
Pretty soon all three girls were laughing at each other, and Harry had to look away from their vibrant colors; his eyes were swimming at the mere sight.  
Angelina sighed, flicked her hair behind her ear, and stated, "They left out some of what we thought might be Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans..."  
"Which they weren't," Alicia added dangerously.  
"So we had some, and they turned our hair these nasty colors!" Katie finished.  
"This is going to be an interesting practice," Ron supplied.  
Harry had to laugh with his team, and then they set to work. Harry only missed the Snitch twice, considering how badly his eyes were tearing up. After only half an hour of practice, though, Harry sailed down to the grass on the Quidditch grounds. The rest of his team came down with him, assorted balls in hand.  
"I'm sorry," he began, watching the world swim before his eyes. He blinked once or twice, and continued, "I've got this really bad cold and I can't stay on my broom a moment longer..." As if to prove his weakness, his knees swayed, and he locked them back, hoping no one had noticed.   
They all had, and all agreed that they should go inside.   
Sitting before the fire with a mug of hot cocoa, Harry was content enough to fall asleep. In fact, he almost did.  
Angelina surprised him by bringing him some virus medicine. She explained, "Well, I had to stop by Madame Pomphrey's anyway to see if she had anything to fix this mess," she motioned to her head. "I ran into that Slytherin girl, Parkinson, and she was laughing all the way to her Common Room." She grimaced and handed him the mug. "Get better soon, Captain."  
He grinned and thanked her, and after taking the medicine, he returned to the table with enough will to fight Divination for another three hours, then went to bed, hoping that the dreams wouldn't come.  
But they did...  
***  
  
  
His cold still hadn't left by Friday morning. Arlé had noticed it by this time and had given him a wide berth; partially because she didn't want to catch it and partially because he wasn't in the best of moods.   
Nevertheless, by Friday morning he was sick of his misery and wanted nothing more than company of people that weren't miserable.  
"Oh, why do we have Potions this morning?" He groaned to Ron.  
"Potions?" Ron yanked the list out of Harry's hands and crumpled it into a ball. Harry quickly rescued it before Ron set it alight with his wand, and unfolded it gently.   
"At least it isn't Double Potions today," Harry stated, which didn't make Ron any happier about it.  
"Maybe we can head down to the Medical Wing and get some of that potion..."   
"No, I can't I just took some after breakfast."  
"Well, come down with me anyway?"  
Harry shook his head. "You know how much Snape will like that."  
Ron nodded. "If I'm not in the dungeons in, oh, let's say three hours, send a search party."  
"Okay," Harry acknowledged, wishing that he could miss all of Snape's lessons for once.  
Hermione and Arlé met him in the dungeon, and they set themselves up in the furthest seats from Snape as they possibly could.  
As Snape started his lesson, Ron opened the door. "Professor, I just stopped by the Nurse's office to get something for this cold--" As if to emphasize his cold, he sneezed. Snape accepted the pass Ron had offered him and said coldly, "Fine, go sit down."  
"Harry!" Ron hissed as he sank into a chair, "Pomphrey was talking to Dumbledore about--"  
"Pay attention, Weasley, Potter," Snape growled, and Ron shut his mouth with an audible click as the Slytherins turned to watch him, as if expecting a punishment.  
Ron mouthed to Harry, "Snape leaving. Didn't catch why."  
Arlé glanced at Harry and Ron, one eyebrow arced in confusion. "What?" She mouthed, then looked away as Snape called out their names again.  
"Deerflada, do I need to assign detentions? One more word out of the three of you and I will."  
She pursed her lips defiantly, but Harry touched her arm lightly and she backed down.  
Snape leaving? Harry couldn't seem to get this idea through his thick skull. Why would Snape leave? He had a little bit of everything going for him; some romance, a solid job... He trailed off, his mind pointing at the one obvious conclusion he could see.  
Was he going because he was going back to Voldemort? Perhaps to search out clues about something? Harry glanced at Snape, wondering whose side he was really on. But Dumbledore trusted him...  
Arlé elbowed him in the side and brought him out of his reverie just in time to hear Snape say, "And I'll be gone for a week, so Professor Bailey will be covering my class."  
Harry turned and stared at Ron, who nodded tensely.  
"Why would he want to go back to--"  
Harry looked at her expectantly and she stopped; the last thing he wanted was a detention with Snape. He could just hear the taunts Snape would offer to him...  
"Honestly, Potter, if you couldn't have Granger, you had to find someone else..." He shook his head once to clear the buzzing in his ear, and tried to refocus on the lesson Snape was teaching.   
  
Harry followed his friends up to the Common Room to wait out the two hours until lunch. If he really wanted to, he supposed that he could have gone down to eat lunch, but the others wanted to discuss this idea that Ron had just found.  
"Doesn't he think that Voldemort knows he's not a true Death Eater?" Harry demanded to start off the awkward conversation. Hermione led them over to a secluded circle of seats and sank into the couch.  
"It's more a question of 'How much information will Snape gather before he destroys him'?" Ron stated, sinking down beside Hermione and sighing. "You know, as much as I hate his lessons, I feel kind of sorry for him."  
Harry nodded, drawing a chair closer to the couch before sitting in it. "But if it's a suicide mission, then why do it? There's no way Voldemort will reveal anything to Snape, knowing that he's two-sided."  
"What if he's not going on this suicidal mission?" Arlé asked, leaning against the back of the couch. "Could this be totally unrelated?"  
"Perhaps," Hermione replied. "We can't push aside the fact that Snape may be doing something unrelated."  
"But if he is going..." Arlé said softly, running a hand through her hair nervously.  
Ron leaned forward. "I wish I knew exactly what he's doing, so we could talk accordingly."  
"We're not doing any good just sitting here debating about it," Arlé muttered, looking beyond Harry at the fireplace. She looked nervous, Harry decided, surprised and a bit angry that he hadn't noticed before.  
"What can we do?" Ron asked, looking up at her.  
She shook her head. "Who knows?"  
A little while later Ron brought out his chess set and challenged Arlé to a match. She seemed willing for a distraction, and they set to it. Almost half an hour later, Ron had positioned his knights effectively, but Arlé was checking his king into submission. The board was almost devoid of Ron's pieces, but he had taken out quite a few of Arlé's as well.   
"Queen me," she said in jest as she promoted one of her pawns, and he replaced the pawn with an upside-down rook.   
Just as Ron was about to move one of his pieces, some boy screamed. Harry jumped to his feet, seeing Arlé glance around with wide eyes as he did so.  
Fred raced down the stairs and looked around wild-eyed, searching for something or someone. His gaze fell across the quartet's laughing faces and his eyes narrowed. His hair had grown past his knees, and it was a brilliant shade of purple that seemed to fit him so well.  
Hermione gasped, "What did you do?"  
"You think I did this to myself?" Fred demanded, marching over to them.  
"No, I meant what did you do to deserve this?" Hermione corrected, pointing behind him at Katie, Angelina and Alicia, whose hair still had a bit of coloration in it, although nothing as pronounced as it had been at Quidditch practice.  
"He dyed our hair different colors!" Katie replied, motioning to her slightly blue hair with disgust.   
Arlé giggled and said, "Oh, purple does look good on him though."  
"You should see George," grinned Alicia.  
"He has a bright pink and I must say it suits him even better than Fred's does."  
"He's still asleep, though. Wonder what his facial expression will be..."  
"Let's go wake him up!" giggled Alicia, and they swept past Fred, who moved back to let them by.   
Arlé smirked at Harry and Ron and said threateningly, "If you ever try that sort of stint on Hermione and I..."  
"You'll be in for a worse fate than your brothers, Ron," finished Hermione.  
Five minutes later George made his appearance, looking miserable as the girls paraded him off cheerfully. His hair looked even funnier than Fred's, seeing as his face was almost as pink as his hair.  
Ron and Arlé finished their game fifteen minutes later (Arlé won), and put their pieces away. Ron stretched and pulled out a timetable regretfully glancing at the paper is if afraid that it would curse him. "Oh, Double Transfiguration after lunch," he sighed.  
"Oh, good, that means I have a free period," Arlé grinned.  
Ron pulled a face at her. "Oh aren't you so lucky," he mimicked, then broke into an easy smile, which she reflected back. Harry noticed that she looked exhausted, and felt a twinge of guilt at not noticing this before. She had distanced herself from him, their friendship tentative after that afternoon in Professor Dumbledore's office, and Harry had not reached across the distance.  
He would have to look into it after Transfiguration, but his stomach chose that moment to growl.   
Hermione glanced over at him and suggested, "Perhaps we should head down to lunch."  
"Very good idea," Ron stated, rubbing his own stomach, and the four headed down to the Great Hall.   
  
Harry watched as Hermione transfigured her coil of rope into a snake that stared at Harry for a moment with dark eyes and then turned its triangular head away. He glanced back down at his own rope and noticed with a small smile that the entwined threads had changed colors and were beginning to look like scales. Comforted and inspired by this fact, he set back to it again, squinting slightly against the slight blur of his eyes.  
McGonogall was sweeping around the room, offering advice and generally supervising things to make sure that they weren't getting out of hand. Neville's coil of rope had twisted so tightly about his hand that he couldn't even release his wand, and he whimpered.  
A few minutes later a scarlet and green snake had replaced Harry's rope and he sank back into his seat, stifling a sneeze. He watched the snake for a moment, wondering exactly why one of its eyes was red and the other blue...  
"You are the Potter child?" It asked, laying its head along the desk so that both eyes could watch Harry at the same time.  
Harry nodded slowly, hoping that no one would notice that he was actually talking to the snake; seeing how they had all reacted in his second year, he didn't want to take chances now.  
"Many will notice you. Few will truly know you," it stated; as if it had nothing better to do than start a conversation about Harry's fame.  
"I know," he responded softly, watching as it heaved a delicate sigh.   
"But do you accept it?" The snake asked, lifting its head and flicking its forked tongue once or twice. Hermione looked over, eyes narrowed, and Harry felt heat rise to his face as he glanced away from the snake. She had most definitely seen him talking to the snake and while it was common knowledge that he was a Parseltongue, to actually see him using it must have startled her.  
The snake was right, he thought as Hermione turned back to her own snake with slight hesitation. He didn't accept his difference; he had merely wanted to fit into the crowd, to be seen as a normal fifteen-year-old boy learning to be a wizard. But he had always been singled out as "the boy who lived," "Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort..." The list went on, while he stayed where he was, merely a boy with a protective mother who died to save his life.  
He glanced out the window and his eyes touched a scene that made him wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But they were not, and after blinking for a few moments, he had to assume that the view was real. A flash of memory swirled into his consciousness, and he suddenly remembered the dream he kept having but could never remember...  
  
He staggered through the smoke-laden building, searching for someone. Something from behind grabbed at his cloak, trying to hinder his progress. He stumbled as a cold hand grasped around his foot, and collapsed to the floor as his balance gave out.  
A body flung itself between the hands and his foot, separating it, but when he turned to see who his savior was, he saw nothing but fire...  
  
He snapped his eyes open and strode to the window, gaping at the scene once more; Greenhouse #3 was on fire, the air above and around it blurring with the heat. The flames had clearly originated from within the building, and were now licking against the glass on the right side of the door.   
Professor McGonogall, who had noticed his migration from his desk to the window, stepped to his side and gasped. At that sound every student clambered over to get a peek out the window. Harry found himself rotated out of his position before the window as the fifth years tried to get a better look.  
Ron was staring out the window whilst kneeling on a desk to see over the heads, a mute expression on his face. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and motioned to Ron; she asked, "Ron, what's the matter?"  
"Ginny," Ron breathed, shaking his head, and Harry remembered the youngest Weasley child mentioning cheerfully at lunch that she was going down to Greenhouse 3 to help Professor Sprout...  
Harry didn't say anything, but a sudden understanding lanced between Harry and Ron. "You should tell a teacher," Hermione hissed, but they were gone.  
As soon as they left the room they broke into a run, their footfalls the only sound in the empty corridors. Harry's foot nearly got caught in the disappearing step as they raced down the stairs, but Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him out.  
They arrived at the Greenhouse just as part of the east wall caved in, glass shattering everywhere. Harry darted through the side that had just been opened, and called Ginny's name once. He looked around, expecting Ron to be right behind him, and then turned to say something to Ron.  
Behind him, the wall caved in the rest of the way, taking some of the ceiling down with it. The smoke filled his vision, drawing tears from his eyes, and when it cleared, a large pile of flaming debris had covered his entrance.  
He dropped to a crouch in an attempt to get beneath the smoke, watching as the flames flickered disturbingly calmly and calling her name once more.   
"Harry?" Ginny's faint voice called back, and he could see her through a sudden parting in the veil of smoke. She was wedged beneath a metal table that had collapsed when the plant that had been perched upon it had shifted to get away from the flames. He lifted the table a little, coughing spasmodically as he stood to get a better grip, and Ginny hurried from beneath it.   
She crouched at his side, keeping her head down low. Her red hair was covered with soot, but she was otherwise unharmed. Harry pulled out his wand and wished he had been taught a spell for creating water; unfortunately, nothing came to mind as a spell he could use.  
He glanced around, quickly deciding that they were going out the door because there was a relatively open pathway to it. They plunged toward the door, half-crouching, half walking, when she yelped in fright.   
Something else was in the burning building, and it's shadowy figure suddenly blocked the doorway. Harry couldn't get a clear look at it before the ceiling cracked and rained burning shards of glass down upon them. The figure darted away, hunched over like a man, as Harry flung his arm above his head as feeble protection. The shards burned into his body as he pulled Ginny to him, trying to protect her from the shower.  
He could vaguely see the flames shrinking back from him, as if some other force was controlling them, and then his consciousness faded as another piece of shrapnel struck his head.  
  
(A/N Talk to me people!!!! Any commentary would be nice... Please? Next chapter soon to follow!) 


	19. Pyr-psychic

(A/N-- I'm sorry I had to post this revised edition of chapter 18... i forgot that Arle has Draco's wand so that means Draco doesn't... Yeah, sorry about that confusion... ;) Anyways, thanks to all the reviewers and readers... I appreciate your reviews!!)  
  
CHAPTER 18: PYR-PSYCHIC  
  
He could hear voices echoing through the room. The first voice was male and gentle, the second an oddly familiar female voice, raised with undeniable passion.  
He couldn't hear what she was saying at first, but she sounded distressed.   
Gradually, he could understand more of their words. But when he tried to open his eyes, the pain stopped him. His burns flared back to life from their previous casual dormancy, and the burns brought with them the reality of what had happened. But how had he gotten here...  
"--Burning," she muttered, her throat closed with emotions. "They could have died if I had let it get away with me."  
"Arlé," The male voice said, and Harry recognized the voice of Dumbledore.  
"Professor, it's Erif. I want no more association with that name."  
"Arlé," he continued, taking no heed to her interruption, "You were able to control it. You saved their lives."  
"I could have killed him," she insisted. "And I love him too much to stand myself if it did happen..."  
Harry felt a surge of--something he had never truly felt before. She loved him that much?  
"Such is love," Dumbledore sighed softly.  
"I can't... I just can't!" She moved to sit on the bed beside Harry, her warm fingers sliding into his own cold ones. He could feel her soft breath on his fingers as she drew his hand to her face.  
"I love you," she whispered tenderly in a voice that Harry had to strain to hear, and kissed his cheek. Harry felt tears drop onto his fingers, warming them where they touched his skin. She laid his hand back down on the bed, and after a long moment stood and backed away. In a louder voice, she said, "I'll be packing my things now..." The door opened and shut, and she was gone... forever?  
No.  
Harry struggled up, trying not to groan as the pain lanced through his skull. Apparently the last shards had struck rather hard, leaving him with a concussion. Professor Dumbledore was at his side in an instant, holding him steady until the room stopped spinning. "And where did you think you were going?"  
"She can't leave; so much depends on her! She's the only one that can read that prophecy, the only 'Fire' that will fulfill the prophecy! And I need her! Why is she leaving?" He cast an accusing stare at Dumbledore that was harsher than he intended it to be. He dropped the stare after a moment or two, looking down at his hands.  
"She can explain it better than I."  
"But will she want to? Will she even speak to me?" Harry shook his head angrily and was satisfied to see that the world only swayed a little and remained in perfect focus. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, casting a cursory glance over his clothes. He was in pajamas, but they would have to do.   
"Madame Pomphrey will hate me for interfering with her ministrations, but you and I are of the same mind, and I will not hand Voldemort part of the prophecy for him to destroy as he will." Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry and murmured something, and Harry's aches and pains dissipated to be replaced by a dull throbbing. "That spell will only last for a few hours, so I would ask you to hurry back as quickly as possible."  
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said hurriedly as he moved around the curtain surrounding his hospital bed.  
As he did so, he met two sets of eyes belonging to none other than Snape and Bailey, who were positioned on a couch that had been a recent addition to the hospital wing. Bailey's eyes were sad and oddly strained, almost crossed-eyed, but she managed a small smile for Harry. She was leaning up against Snape as if she had very little strength of her own left, and Snape, too, was showing signs of strain, albeit none as severe as Summer's. Snape glanced at Harry and then down at Summer, his eyes betraying a worry that seemed very out of place in his features.  
Behind them, the faded evening sky floated in the window, stars winking in and out as if undecided on whether they wanted to stay here or wander one in search of a more hospitable place. A gentle reddish glow reflected off the stone walls of the castle from the Greenhouse, which was now reduced to a pile of embers and shards.   
He glanced at the other curtain and was relieved to see a shock of red hair peeking from beyond it. Ginny was fine and in good hands.  
It was a long lonely walk back to the Common Room, but when he stepped inside, it was deserted. He wondered why that was, but didn't have much time to wonder for he heard a soft noise emanating from the girls' dormitory.  
He stepped cautiously into the doorway and looked at her for a moment. She sat on the bed, trunk open beside her, a pile of clothes on the faded coverlet. Her face was hidden from his view by both her hands and the fact that she was angled away from the door, but he could still tell that she was crying.   
He was so amazed at the sight of the proud woman he once knew broken that he accidentally scuffed the floor with his bare foot. "Arlé..." He began.  
Her head came up and around, her eyes dark despite the tears. "How can you even talk to me?" she demanded, her normally smooth voice quaking. "After what I almost did to you..." She looked away, her hair hanging limply from her head as if it too had no life left.  
"I don't care about what you've done in your past, if that's what you worry about. I care for you because of who you are to me." He stepped further into the room, feeling a bit as if he had invaded a place he should never have entered.  
"You don't really know me," she stalled, but her eyes dared him to deny that fact.  
"I don't know you because you've never let me past your outer wall. I want to know you," he ceded, putting just the right amount of guilt into his statement as to make her squirm a bit under the pressure.  
He walked slowly towards her until he was five feet away from her, close enough that he could see the warring emotions flash across her face without understanding which emotions they were.   
She stared hard at him a moment, torn by indecision, and Harry strode over to her, gently turned her around, and wrapped his arms around her, and to his surprise she leaned into the embrace. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his shoulder, tears soaking into the fabric of his clothes.  
To Harry's surprise, his shoulder tingled as if some power flowed into it, and the dull ache within the bones of his arm receded entirely.  
He led her out into the Common Room, where they sat together on the couch. Once her tears had abated, he tilted her head up to look into her eyes. She pulled him to her and they kissed once more.  
"Tell me," he whispered, and she did not look away this time.  
"I'm a pyr-psychic," she stated, offering her left hand to him as a tight fist. He took it with a bit of confusion, and looked at her imploringly. She opened her hand and little flames danced across her palm, yet her hand did not burn. He watched the flames for a moment and reached down to touch them, and to his surprise his finger did not burn or feel anything except a bit of heat.  
"I can conjure and control fire. This is only part of the 'Reed Talent'--my father was a pyr-psychic as were my two younger brothers. And Eric," she added, her tone suddenly cold.  
"Is that why Dumbledore wants to protect you?"   
"It's only part of the reason; an untrained pyr-psychic can set fire to anything accidentally... they're a danger to others." She looked down at her hands, pursing her lips slightly. "That's why I must leave."  
"No!" Harry said, a bit harsher than he had intended. "I can help you control it..." He trailed off at her downcast look, her green eyes not meeting his own. "I don't want you to leave. What about the prophesy?"  
"The prophesy may be wrong."  
"You're the only pyr-psychic around here," Harry pointed out, pulling her into his embrace as if in doing this he could protect her from all that would harm her.  
"No," she murmured, glancing up at him before continuing, "There's Summer too."  
"Bailey's a pyr-psychic?" At her mute nod, he looked into the dying embers of flame in the hearth, feeling a tightness between his eyes that would later emerge into a throbbing headache. "That explains a lot..."  
"But you're not satisfied with my answers yet, are you?" She asked softly, tucking her feet beneath her slender body and clutching at his arms for a moment while she rebalanced herself. "What more do you want to know?"  
He smiled down at her, and she responded in kind. "You know me well," he said.   
"Too well." Her smile faded a little, her gaze leaving his own. "I know that you want me to stay... but I can't."  
"Why not?" He asked, taking her hands and feeling the slight tremors as she shuddered at the contact.  
"For all those reasons I just mentioned."  
"Can I add another reason to my list of why you should stay?"   
She cocked one eyebrow as if to ask if this reason was that large that it would change her mind. "Go ahead."  
"I love you." He watched as all of her carefully built walls broke down in a matter of a few seconds. She gazed into his eyes for a moment, and he could see within their depths a need for the words he had just spoken.   
"I love you too..." And a silence spread between them, a silence that warmed instead of froze. Harry pulled her into his arms, unaware of when exactly she had pulled out of them, and somewhen between seven that night and eight the next morning, Harry decided, they had fallen asleep.  
  
***  
  
He staggered to his feet, yanking off his invisibility cloak and sighing, the dark night cloaking his thin body in shadow. He had lost a lot of weight, he decided, running a hand through his bedraggled hair. Not as handsome as I used to be... As his hand ran down his face, he felt a warm gouge through his chin and when he pulled his hand away it came away bloody. A recent wound he could not remember accumulating...   
He was glad to be free, however temporarily, from the numerous curses his father had placed on him. He wasn't quite sure exactly how he had escaped them, but all of a sudden he had full control of his body, and the freedom was enough.  
Draco looked around at the grounds of Hogwarts and noticed that one Greenhouse was burnt to the ground. He felt a swell of anger and resentment, which ceded quickly to guilt. Had he burnt it to the ground? Hopefully no wizard or witch was within...  
He glanced around again, feeling some strange power swelling within, and shook his head to clear it. That strange swell had come and gone during his imprisonment, he recalled, and he had assembled the notion that it was the reason for his freedom...  
He should find someone and ask for their help... but who? Definitely not Snape... he was on the Dark Lord's side for sure. Dumbledore did not trust him, and while Dumbledore was a trusting man, his trust only went so far, and Draco had passed those boundaries long ago.   
Perhaps it had something to do with his defined hatred of Harry Potter? His father had cultured him in all the dark prophecies that warned He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named against allowing the Potter child too much freedom. The exact words from one of the prophecies were, "The boy who lived should not have; he will rise against the Darkness, and only through his friends will he defeat Darkness. When the boy who lived rises, it is a single friend that will determine his survival in light... or his death in shadow." The Dark Lord was indeed hell-bent on destroying Potter's friends one by one.  
Draco shook those thoughts out of his mind... the more he thought of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the more he felt that dark presence looming nearer, attempting to take him back...  
Could he tell Bailey? She had a great many secrets, but apparently she was able to keep them...  
He had no one better to approach; might as well, what harm could it do? She could bring this to Dumbledore if she thinks it is needed.  
He crept into the castle after throwing the invisibility cloak back about his shoulders, inwardly laughing at the irony of keeping the front doors unlocked.   
His mind awakened slowly as he stepped through the doors, and he remembered his father's hurried words, spoken in a hushed tone...  
  
"I'm sorry, son, I had no choice... Imperio!"  
  
He shook that and other images off hastily and focused his mind on finding Bailey, a harsh task learned from his father. This skill was all will-power, the art of throwing his entire essence into locating someone... He rotated three-hundred-and-sixty degrees and then reached out as if to grasp something at eye level. His eyes snapped open and he knew where he was going...   
He stopped just outside the door to the Infirmary, listening for a moment, but the door was shut firmly and he knew better than to go in there with the cloak on. A door opening of its own volition would be mighty suspicious to those inside, and he wasn't sure who was beyond the door.  
He backed up out of the way as the door slid open, watched numbly as Erif stormed past, her clothing and her step distraught and ragged. Her footfalls echoed through the hall and as she walked past he got a whiff of the fragrance that always surrounded her. It was not a flowery smell as many would associate with women; it was more of a burning wood odor, hard and snappy.  
He turned back to the door, realizing that it was still shut; she had closed it behind her. He watched just as mutely as Harry stormed past, noting that he had left the door open slightly. Moments after Harry had left, Dumbledore opened the door and walked down the corridor in the other direction from the way the two Gryffindors had gone. He paused before reaching back and closing the door, and left it open; easily enough room for Draco to slip through. A slight smile touched the elderly Headmaster's features as he walked away, and Draco had the sinking feeling that Dumbledore knew he was there, waiting.  
He pulled the cloak off and slid on through, pressed by the feeling that his hourglass of freedom was going to turn at any instant...  
He glanced around and saw that Bailey and Snape were both asleep on a recently added couch; they looked so peaceful that he just stared at them for a moment, wondering...  
Summer's eyes snapped open, her body tensing visibly as she glanced blearily around the room. Her intense golden eyes caught and held his own for a moment, and then they narrowed suspiciously.  
"What..." She began, and then rose to her feet without disrupting Snape's sleep.   
"I need your help," he began, but her stare made him stop.  
"Why would you need my help?" She demanded, her hands playing with a wand that he hadn't seen her draw.  
He looked down at the floor for a moment, all too conscious of the fact that he did not have his wand with him.  
She persisted, "How can you prove to me that you aren't being controlled by You-Know-Who?"  
"I can't."  
"I know that you've had the Dementor's Kiss--no one can survive that and be of their own free will..."  
"My father was able to reverse it somehow." Draco startled himself by saying this; how had he known?  
She angled her body to keep him in view and said softly, "Severus, wake up."   
The Potion's Master awoke quickly and just as quickly assessed the situation. They exchanged a knowing glance and Bailey, turning back to Draco, asked, "Would you allow us to use Veritaserum on you?"  
So this was how it was going to be...  
"Yes."  
  
***  
  
"I told you he'd be all right..."  
"Sh, don't wake them."  
"Can't we wake them up and tease them a little?"  
"No, Fred, not one bit."  
"They look so tired... let's just let them sleep."  
He heard vague footsteps as their friends crept past, and Harry could very nearly imagine the looks on their faces as they each watched he and Arlé sleeping. Hermione was probably smirking a bit, her brown eyes twinkling with a combination of happiness for his safety and wonder at what took them so long... Ron was watching them with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering why he hadn't seen something like this coming... Fred and George, controlling their laughter behind one hand...  
Let them watch... all was right in Harry's world. As the sound of their footsteps fell away, Harry sneaked one eye open to look down at Arlé, who looked up at him with a smile. His friends had woken both of them, but he was in no hurry to move from his little spot of Eden. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting against his shoulder, on foot tucked up beneath him.  
"I guess this makes us a couple now," he whispered, and she smiled and hid a yawn.  
"As if there were any doubt," she responded, tapping his nose affectionately, sending shivers up and down his spine.  
"We won't hear the end of this from Fred and George."  
"So? I like hearing that I'm 'going out with you;' it sounds all the more interesting." She curled a little tighter into his left shoulder, and he laid his head against her own, the contact reassuring both of them and lulling them back to sleep. 


	20. Discovery and Answers

CHAPTER 19: DISCOVERY AND ANSWERS  
  
Draco woke suddenly, mind wandering agitatedly. He struggled to open his eyes, a weariness he couldn't explain sinking into his body. He looked around, glad to be in control of himself again, and realized that he was in Dumbledore's office.   
  
He had only been in there once or twice before, and had hardly had time to look around, seeing as he had been in trouble on all of his previous visits. There were a great many eccentricities in here, the clutter of paraphernalia that only a Headmaster of a large school would accumulate.  
  
Dumbledore's famous phoenix, Fawkes, dozed on his perch, head snaking beneath his wing. The red feathers glowed slightly, a sign of vivacity, but the phoenix was small. Draco had seen this phoenix much larger, and its tail feathers were short and slender, not the long slightly gossamer feathers that he had seen before. Draco didn't know much about phoenixes but he did know that they went through a roughly monthly cycle of death and rebirth, and by looking at Fawkes he assumed that he had recently had his Burning Day.   
  
Draco's eyes wandered for a few more moments before coming to rest on the proprietor of this office and all its contents. His brilliant blue eyes glinted as he watched Draco's movements, and the emotion they contained Draco was not familiar with. His hands were crossed and resting on the edge of the desk.  
  
"Draco," Dumbledore said softly.  
  
"Professor," Draco acknowledged, wondering vaguely if he would be punished for anything that he had said.  
  
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, startling Draco.  
  
"For what, sir?"  
  
"For telling us everything last night. We hadn't expected you to yield to the Veritaserum as easily as you had. What remains to be discussed is what we should do now... I think I should discuss it with them before I give a decision."  
  
As he said "them" Dumbledore's gaze floated down to the side of the desk where two sleeping forms could be easily identified. Snape was leaning against the desk, his hair dangling damply in his face as he breathed rhythmically in and out. Beside him Bailey slouched, her head tilted against Snape's shoulder. Draco noticed on Snape's exposed forearm the Dark Mark burning dully. His own Mark burned in sympathy, and he concealed a shudder that he was sure Dumbledore had seen anyway. He noticed that Bailey was wearing long sleeves, concealing her forearms so Draco couldn't see if she had the Dark Mark.  
  
He wondered why they looked so defeated, so exhausted. He knew that they were both in excellent shape, by merely looking at them and remembering scattered images from the past, and that staying up most of one night would not leave them drained like this.   
  
Dumbledore was watching him and had seen the flicker of confusion in his gaze. He guessed correctly what the confusion was about, and said, "They were fighting the fire for most of the day yesterday and had not gotten much sleep before you showed up."  
  
"Did I cause that fire?" Draco asked, the words escaping his lips before he could censor them.  
  
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in anger directed elsewhere. "I believe so; I think that your father was controlling you into doing it."  
  
"Then why don't I remember it?" Draco demanded. He knew fully well that when under the Imperious Curse, one could fight the demands that were placed upon himself. But he had no recollection of ever being placed under the spell, or of fighting it...  
  
"Many reasons," Dumbledore stated, looking down at his hands for a long moment before continuing, "It may be that you just couldn't handle the thought of going under your father's hand once again; more of an uncontrolled paranoia of being controlled than a conscious effort. Or your father and Voldemort have created a stronger version of the Imperious Curse."  
  
Draco sighed, putting his head in his hands and trying to will his brain into remembering...  
  
"Is there anything else you would like to discuss?"  
  
If it had been someone else in the same position asking him this, he would have laughed in their face; because of the Veritaserum, pretty much all that he knew had been exposed.  
  
But Dumbledore's seriousness made him pause and reconsider.  
  
Again, he found that he couldn't trust Dumbledore, despite the fact that he had listened to him tell everything under the Veritaserum.  
  
Perhaps it was his Death Eater conditioning holding him back...  
  
"No, there isn't anything, Professor..."  
  
***  
  
Harry was a fitful sleeper in the best of times, Erif decided, and these weren't the best of times. He was sleeping quietly enough at the moment, but his sleep was troubled by demonic dreams where past and future molded together. She knew that there was much in his past that could incur nightmares, just as there was much in her past.   
  
She smoothed his hair across his forehead, watching as the midday sun glinted off the lake into the Common Room. He stirred, his eyebrows creasing slightly, and she wished she could see what dreams plagued him.   
  
Someone had been considerate enough to leave food for them beside the couch, and she reached down to grasp a slightly green apple. The loud crunch as she bit into it startled Harry and his eyes flew open, blinded with panic for a moment before calming down. His eyes were so serious, so worried, so caring... She could go on with this list of adjectives for hours if she had a mind to, as long as they described Harry.  
  
"Where did you get that?" He asked, staring at the fruit hungrily.  
  
"Someone noticed us and decided that we might be hungry," she said, and brought another apple up for Harry. These were both quickly devoured, and they suddenly realized how hungry they were.  
  
Erif pulled the tray up into her lap while Harry poured the orange juice into cups one-handed, and they finished off the entire plate of food in twenty minutes.  
  
"What day is it?" Harry asked slowly, realizing belatedly that the Common Room was empty.  
  
"I don't know," she said, looking around curiously. "I think it's lunchtime on Saturday..."  
  
"Good. That means we're not missing any classes." Harry smirked sideways at her and continued, "And I think my legs have finally fallen asleep."  
  
She stood up easily and held out her hand to Harry, who accepted it and staggered to his feet with only a grunt.   
  
"I think Dumbledore hadn't intended you to stay away from the Infirmary this long..."  
  
"Yeah, I think you're right." He rotated his shoulders and neck for a moment or two, and then locked eyes with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist then, needing to make sure this was real, that he had actually told her that he loved her...  
  
She felt his arms wrap around her, and knew it was real.   
  
"I thought I had lost you," he whispered, and she sighed, breathing his distinctive scent slowly, etching it into her brain.   
  
"I thought I was insane," she responded, "But I'm afraid. What if I do hurt you with this?"  
  
"Life would go on," he stated. "I'd still love you."  
  
"Not if you're dead."  
  
"You won't kill me."  
  
"I wish I shared your confidence."  
  
"I believe that you have more strength than you think you do." Harry tilted her head up so that their eyes were inches from each other. "I believe even if no one else does. And I can help you control it." His eyes glinted with sudden inspiration, as if he had just realized something. "That was what you were doing, all those times you went off with Bailey. You were practicing to control it."   
  
She nodded and swept a stray bunch of hair behind her ear, her green eyes trying to meet his. He pulled her into his arms, and bent to kiss her when the portrait hole opened and several bodies came in.  
Hermione and Ron just stood there staring at them for a moment, and Erif wondered what they were thinking, seeing them like this.  
Ron's face exploded suddenly into a large grin, and he came closer, watching them as if from a whole new light. "You two really were made for each other. I'm surprised I hadn't seen it before now."  
  
Harry smiled at Ron, and as Erif turned to face them, Harry pulled her tighter to him, putting his head on her shoulder, his hands wrapped around her stomach reassuringly. She leaned her head against his as Ron and Hermione continued to stare at them.   
Hermione broke out her reverie first and walked over to their side, pulling them both into a light hug. She smiled shyly and explained, "I thought we had lost both of you."  
  
She continued softly, "After you and Ron ran out of Transfiguration, I told Professor McGonogall that Ginny might have been in the Greenhouse. Erif went inside to rescue you two; but after Erif went inside, the ceiling collapsed entirely."  
  
"Does Ron know?" Erif interrupted.  
  
"Know that you're a fire-starter?" Ron answered, motioning to her left arm where her mark glowed softly. "Bailey told me after you went into the Greenhouse. She said that she was one as well."  
  
"Yes, she is. She's actually training me in its use."  
  
"The whole school is talking about it; the Slytherins especially." Ron shook his head, narrowing his eyes angrily. "They seem to think it's a great laugh; 'Potter rescued by his girlfriend...'" He said in a perfect imitation of Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Then its only a matter of time before You-Know-Who discovers who I am," Erif sighed.  
  
"Perhaps Dumbledore will be able to salvage the situation," Harry offered, but Erif shook her head.   
  
"What can he do?"  
  
"More than we can," Harry pointed out.  
  
"You should go see him anyway; he'll probably want to talk to you about it. He's not stupid; he probably knew that once something happened and you were revealed, he would need a backup plan to keep you safe," Hermione stated reasonably.  
  
"Hopefully he has one ready," Erif responded.  
  
"Knowing what little I do about him, he most definitely does." Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he said it, and she could see his pain in the way his mouth pressed into a line.  
  
"You two should go talk to him," Hermione said, "But only after you get changed up." She cast an admonishing look at Harry's pajamas, and then at Arlé's burnt clothes.  
  
"Aren't you two coming with us?" Harry asked, blushing a little at the state of his clothes.   
  
"If you want us to," Ron answered wryly.  
  
"Of course we do," Harry assured him, and Ron's tight face broke into a smile.  
  
The four stepped out of the Common Room five minutes later and walked down the hallway toward Dumbledore's office.  
  
***  
  
Harry held her hand on the way to Dumbledore's office, and watched as several emotions played across her face, chasing themselves around in circles.   
  
He knew she was still worried about his brush with death, but he hadn't realized until now how much she had worried. Her brows pushed towards each other slightly, and her eyes were narrowed just as slightly.  
  
He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him, startled out of her reverie. "I love you," he whispered to her, leaning toward her ear so she could hear him.  
  
"I love you too," she said back, and smiled, and Harry felt his heart beat out an erratic measure for a moment at the warmth he felt rush through his body.   
  
Before he could ask what she was thinking, they were at the gargoyle statue, which woke up with a start as they approached. It glared down at them and its eyes glinted coolly at the quartet. "Harry Potter," it addressed him, and continued, "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Arlé Reed." Ron and Hermione shot befuddled glances toward Arlé; she responded coolly with a shrug. Harry could tell that she was startled by what the gargoyle had said, but she held it back from reaching her gaze.  
  
The gargoyle's roving gaze came back upon Harry and it sniffed the air once before asking, "Password?"  
  
"Snickers," Harry supplied, and it jumped aside, rustling its stone wings irritably at being awoken. Its glowing red eyes followed them unblinkingly into the staircase. "Is it me or was it a little more... er, alive?" He asked as they stepped up onto the stairs and steadily rose. As they did, Harry's scar began to tingle.   
  
"Yes, he did appear a little more alive. Perhaps Dumbledore put extra enchantments on it to keep strangers from entering," Hermione said, rising a step in anticipation. He reached up casually and rubbed at the scar, but for all of his concealing moves, they noticed. He felt a spark of indignation at this lack of privacy, but pushed it down, knowing that they only cared for his well being. When his scar hurt him, they worried, and for that he was grateful.  
  
"Welcome," Dumbledore said as they entered the door. He was standing behind his desk and motioned for them to come inside.   
Snape and Bailey were leaning up against the desk, watching as the four of them stepped in. In one of the chairs in front of the desk sat a young man with blonde hair; he did not turn, but was instead gazing intently at the floor before him.   
  
Arlé recognized him first, and moved beside him. She placed a hand upon his shoulder as if to make sure he was real. He started, and his grey gaze caught hers as he turned in his chair. "Ardesco," he murmured, narrowing his eyes, and Harry realized who it was by the cold tone in his voice.   
  
Harry pulled Arlé back behind him suddenly, feeling her shallow breath against his neck as he imposed himself between her and Draco. He reached within his pocket and felt the smooth wood reassuring to his fingertips.  
  
"Harry," Draco Malfoy said, standing wearily. Harry looked him over and realized that he looked ragged, and incredibly tired. But what Harry was really worried about was that Draco was under Voldemort's control, having no mind of his own.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry spat back, glaring green knives at the Slytherin boy. Hermione gasped, and Harry could hear Ron fumbling with his wand behind him. Harry felt a surge of guilt at not having told his friends about the Dementor's Kiss, but put his feelings aside in the heat of the moment.  
  
"Now, now, no need for wands here," Dumbledore admonished slowly. "Put them away and let me explain."   
  
Ron looked at Harry and tucked his wand away. Harry drew Arlé beside him and she clasped his arms warmly, seeking as much comfort as she was giving.   
  
"Draco was placed under the Imperius curse at the beginning of this term. You may find that he is a very different person from how he came across to you before; his father was not kind to him. That night he was taken and Patil murdered was all staged; a ploy to make us think that Draco had been himself, and was just now being taken to Voldemort as one of his own."   
  
Harry looked to Bailey for confirmation and she nodded once before casting her eyes elsewhere. Harry had seen much fear in her eyes; fear for Draco, for Arlé, for Severus...  
  
Dumbledore continued, "Sometime between that staged night and the ball, Draco was given the Dementor's Kiss... unable to control his actions, he has no memories of anything that happened during that time. From there, what I gather is that his father and Voldemort had been working on a potion or a certain spell that would rescind the Kiss. They tested it on Draco and luckily for him it succeeded. They then sent him here, where a certain 'power,' as Draco calls it, gave him enough strength to take control of his own mind." Arlé shuddered at the mention of 'power,' as if she knew firsthand what Dumbledore meant, and Harry pulled her in closer, and then ingested what Dumbledore had just insinuated.  
  
"Professor, that isn't possible," Harry interrupted. "He can't be here of his own free will..." Harry spread his hands as if to wish for an explanation that he could produce himself, but could find no such answer. He noticed out of the corner of his eyes Malfoy leaning forward as if listening intently to Dumbledore's response, despite the fact that Dumbledore had probably gotten his answer directly from the Slytherin.  
  
"Harry," the wise old Headmaster said, and conjured up four chairs for them. Snape and Bailey took the remaining chairs, the Potions Master with a scowl and Summer with a slight smile. "I had not thought it possible, but he is. I have spent most of the night questioning him with Veritaserum, and I have no reason to doubt his word."  
  
Harry looked in the Slytherin boy's direction and was surprised to meet an inquisitive stare back at him. Malfoy's calm grey gaze reflected more than a little fear, a trait that Harry found disconcerting. More than fear, though, was an overall thought of uncertainty, which seemed foreign when discussed in the same sentence as Malfoy.   
  
His appearance, which had made him appear a different person at first, was haggard and malnourished. His face looked thinner than normal, and as a result his cheekbones appeared dominant in his face. His hair, which was in dire need of a trim, was almost past his chin, and Harry noticed that a faint stubble was growing there. It gave Harry the faint impression of Snape, with his cheekbones and stringy hair...  
  
He found the comparison too unnerving to think about.  
  
Dumbledore looked around at the four Gryffindors as if waiting for questions, and when none came, he nodded once and asked, "Did you have something you wish to discuss?"  
  
Harry turned to Arlé, who gazed at him with gentle eyes... It was like looking into a mirror only he knew that he could never look that way at her; it made his heart melt...  
  
"Professor, I'd rather certain ears didn't hear this..." she said, tilting her head at Draco.  
  
Harry watched as Draco sighed and scowled, protesting loudly, "What's this? More secrets, Potter? The whole school will know this one by tomorrow, I can promise you that."  
  
"The whole school already knows, Malfoy. Get with the times," Harry pointed out angrily.  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall Draco's arguement (although the Slytherin looked about ready to fry eggs with his eyes) and said, "Anything you wish to discuss can be discussed before Draco."  
  
"He may bring this information back to You-Know-Who," she protested.  
  
"Only if he is put back under the Imperius curse." Dumbledore seemed satisfied that Malfoy would not go off and tell the Dark Lord anything, but Harry could tell by the glint in Arlé's eyes that she wasn't.  
  
Dumbledore directly to Arlé, "Remember the prophesy."  
  
She widened her eyes and fought down the urge to cut a glance in Malfoy's direction. "Neither of us can prove that it's him," she argued.  
  
"Nor can you prove that it is you and Harry it speaks of, either." She shook her head slowly, looking away from Dumbledore. "He has a right to hear this, as much as Summer, Severus, and I do."  
  
Harry shot a look at Malfoy and was rather angered to see the almost-smile on his face, but the Draco's sharp eyes flicked onto Harry's, and he stopped smiling. Something about Malfoy's eyes was different, but Harry couldn't place it immediately. Perhaps it was how his smile didn't touch his eyes at all...  
  
The air between their stares immediately filled with tension, and to Harry's surprise Malfoy broke the glare first. His eyes flickered up to Snape for a moment, and Harry realized that his irises nearly looked transparent; more of a silvery white than anything else.   
  
"Is there any way to keep the fact that I'm a pyr-psychic away from You-Know-Who?" Arlé asked slowly, her syllables a little tight.  
  
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and for just a moment he appeared so much older, so much more afraid... And then he opened his crystal blue eyes and Harry could practically read what he was thinking; "She's too young to bear this burden..."   
  
But before he could say anything Malfoy spat, "You're a pyr-psyche? An Elemental?"   
  
Arlé fixed him with a pointed stare and said coldly, "Yes, I am. Is there a problem with that?"  
  
Harry could only guess that a variety of responses were flying through Malfoy's mind at that point but to Harry's surprise, he just shook his head. "No problem," he muttered, tossing his head to get some of his hair out of his eyes.  
  
Fawkes flapped over to perch on Arlé's shoulder; he looked small, ungrown, but lively enough that she did not shrink away. Harry guessed that her unease around the phoenix was because of their similarities; perhaps she feared that she too would go through a cycle of death and rebirth...   
  
She turned back to Dumbledore and he said, "I assume that you have heard that it is sweeping across the school?" She nodded, and he continued, "There is nothing I can do about that."  
  
"So he will find out..." She looked around restlessly and continued after a moment of silence, "And Eric will know that he didn't destroy all of us."  
  
"If this 'Eric' betrayed the Reeds, then he was the one I mentioned earlier," Summer said to Dumbledore, confusing the students, but the Headmaster understood.   
  
"Indeed, this turn of events is unfortunate. It appears that Eric was the one who put Black into the state that he is in now." Dumbledore was shaking his head as he said this.   
  
"Who's Eric?" Ron demanded, and from the look on Hermione's face she was thinking the same thing. "What does he have to do with any of us?"  
  
"Eric was my brother," Arlé responded hotly, emphasizing the word "was."  
  
"So he's dead?" Ron asked, misinterpreting her emphasis.  
  
"No, he's alive." Arlé looked up to Dumbledore for confirmation of this.  
  
"Yes, he is, and apparently he has risen in the ranks of Death Eaters in the wake of Voldemort's return. From Draco's interrogation we were able to discern that Eric is considered the highest Death Eater, and also one of the youngest ones. He is a recent addition to Voldemort's flock, and he is eager to prove his worth in his Master's eyes." Dumbledore turned to Summer and muttered something beneath his breath, and she shook her head. Dumbledore continued, "He was sent off to destroy his own family and met resistance: Black, whom we had sent out there to discreetly protect the Reeds, was waiting for him. Unfortunately, Eric had more Death Eaters with him than we had anticipated and Black was captured; most probably tortured and then administered the Dementor's Kiss."  
  
Harry refused to meet his friends eyes, knowing that he would find sympathy that he didn't want. They didn't know what it felt like to know that everyone close to him was being destroyed or was already dead... He felt hot tears come to his eyes and closed them for a moment. Arlé slid her hand into his own and squeezed, offering him comfort, and he looked over at her. Her face was mildly concerned, but her eyes were offering him sympathy if he wanted to accept it.  
  
Instead of turning from her as he had the last time she had offered sympathy, he leaned into her shoulder, tears flowing freely this time, and she wrapped her arms around him slowly, tenderly.  
  
He could feel tears streaking down his own face and very distantly, could feel a slight tremor as if she too were crying.   
  
It was the safest he'd ever felt in a long time; just the two of them, rocking slightly in a gesture of intimacy... And he realized that all he had ever wanted was someone to care for him this way, to be like a mother to him, only much more, and as much as he had convinced himself that Sirius was the answer to this need, he wasn't. She was.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco looked away as the two lovebirds shared a private moment, trying not to roll his eyes at their antics. He wasn't used to being ignored, as the quartet of Gryffindors were doing, but he felt that he'd rather be ignored than frowned down upon. His eyes raked across Snape, who was standing next to the door, and noted that Snape was not in the least startled by the idea that Arlé was a Fire Elemental.  
  
It frightened Draco a bit, knowing that she had the power within her mind to set the entire office on fire if she felt the urge. His father had never believed in the idea of Elementals, declaring that they were just using their wands to great effect, but his mother had taught him a great deal about Elementals. Apparently Narcissa had gone to school with one, and knew just how much power these people contained in their minds. For some of the Elementals, it was in their blood, while others were flukes of nature, a powerful Elemental born into a "normal" wizarding family. There had never been an Elemental from a Muggle family, however, so magic within a person's family line had something to do with becoming one.   
  
He had dreamed about becoming one when he was little; when he had turned ten he had almost convinced his mother that he was a Water Elemental by carrying around a never-empty pail of water. That episode had ended unhappily, however, when he had made the mistake of pouring the never-empty pail onto his father's desk and ruining quite a fair bit of paperwork. His father had been furious, and his trick had been revealed. His father had beat him quite thoroughly for that one, of course, but after time he had grown used to pain, and he could still look back upon it and laugh.  
  
His eyes snagged on something on Arlé's lower arm, and oddly enough he realized that he recognized it. It was curiously familiar, a nagging presence in the back of his mind, and suddenly, with a snap that was almost audible, something in his mind clicked and he remembered...  
  
[i]"Stay here," a voice muttered softly into his ear, and he complied, but could not help but notice the familiarity of the scene.  
  
A man stood before the Dark Lord--it was more like groveling since the figure was on his knees. This man had no cloak and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but he did not look in the least bit cold although his breath was creating puffs of air. He raised his hands to plead with his Master, who sneered down on him and turned his grotesque face away. On his left forearm were two symbols, one superimposed upon the other. The effect was much more dominant than the Dark Mark alone; it appeared that the Dark Mark was to be found in a field of hot fire, and as the figure moved his arms up and down, the fire flickered much like a real fire, making the effect all the more striking.   
  
"Master I can destroy all of them--I can," the figure insisted, throwing his eyes upward to glance at his Master imploringly. His brilliant green eyes sparked with some sinister desire, and then another hooded figure walked into the scene, his hood obscuring his face.   
His voice was the same voice that had told Draco to stay there.  
  
"Master," he said with a low bow, and did not get up until the Dark Lord said, "Yes, Malfoy."  
  
"I believe that he can do it; but not alone."   
  
At this the first man snapped his head around to glare at Lucius. "I can do it alone. I must..."  
  
"You could get yourself killed, Eric."  
  
The kneeling man laughed, a dark sound to Draco's ears. "I will not; they still think of me as family."  
  
"But you have four brothers and sisters."   
  
"I do."  
  
"And some of them are old enough to fight back," Lucius asked, again knowing the answer but wanting Eric to say it.  
  
Eric's eyes dimmed a bit and he looked down, as if seeing what Lucius was getting at. "Yes there are two of them that are old enough..."  
  
"Master," and Lucius brought his head around, pointing it at his master, "I would like to go along with him. I could hold down the house while he kills them."  
  
"And what is in it for you?" The Dark Lord asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was gravely yet smooth, and his eyes sparked with some amusement.   
  
"I have never been fond of Eric's father. To see him get what is coming to him would please me greatly."  
  
"Not just that, Malfoy. You want the entire family gone. Their blood rivals yours in purity, and you want the prestige." The Dark Lord laughed, again not a pleasant sound, and twirled his wand in his long fingers. "Do it," he said softly, and dismissed the two Death Eaters.  
Eric glared at Lucius with a dark stare but Lucius laughed at him in response.  
  
"Draco..." [/i]  
  
Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him slightly; his eyes refocused slowly as if from a great distance. The vision of the Death Eaters disappeared and was slowly replaced by Snape's concerned features.   
  
"Are you all right?" Bailey asked, watching him carefully as though he might faint.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, swatting Snape's hands away and putting his head into his hands.  
  
"What just happened, Draco?" Dumbledore prompted, and Draco shook his head.  
  
"I don't know," he answered as honestly as he could, although he had a suspicion of what it might be. He lifted his head, catching and holding Dumbledore's eyes. "Do you think that certain things might trigger memories of my time under the curse?"  
  
"A flashback?" Dumbledore paused and then nodded. "It would be more than just coincidence; it would be expected. The mind closes off to painful memories if one has too many of them, and gradually lets them back in one at a time to keep from overloading. Do you think that is what happened?"  
  
"I don't know what else it could be."  
  
"Did something trigger this memory?" Dumbledore looked almost menacing as he leaned forward as if this was of vital importance to him and he would get this out of him by using Veritaserum if he had to.  
  
"Yes." Draco turned toward Arlé who was watching with some confusion in her green eyes. So much like Potter's, and yet so different... "It was that mark on her arm."  
  
"That's the mark that shows that Arlé is a Fire Elemental," Summer explained, and Arlé held it out grudgingly for him to look at. It was gleaming oddly orange, as if it were made up of dying embers instead of true flame.   
  
"Are there any other questions?" Dumbledore asked after a long moment. Silence answered his question; a silence that seemed to expand and weigh down on the small group within the office. "Then you may go back to your dormitories. Draco, please stay here; there is something more I wish to discuss with you."  
  
The Gryffindors stood, watching Draco or Dumbledore for a moment, and then left, obviously going back to their Common Room to discuss what they had just heard.  
  
Dumbledore then turned to Draco and asked, "Would you like to return to your common room? Unfortunately, many of your classmates are off in Hogsmeade right now."  
  
"At least they're enjoying their weekend," Draco muttered sarcastically.  
  
"Are you going to tell them the truth of what happened this weekend?" Snape demanded, watching Draco as intently as Draco was watching him.  
  
"Definitely not, Draco responded coolly. "Half of them would never speak to me again, and the other half would treat me like some sort of god. Which wouldn't be a bad thing," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Bailey rolled her eyes at his self-absorbed notion. "What are you going to tell them, then?"  
  
"I'm assuming you have an idea as to what I should say anyway, so why does my opinion matter?" He said, not quite being able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. That sarcasm had been inherited from his father, in their verbal sparring matches. There had been many of these spats, testing Draco's wit and intelligence at odd points during the day. He had never known when to expect one; on the day when he had gotten his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, he had had four such arguments. At first, when he had started at age seven, his father had always won, but as he grew older he found new ways to be sarcastic and throw double-edged comments, and had stalemated his father on several occasions.   
  
"You know your peers better," she pointed out.  
  
"No I think it would be more correct to say that my father knows my peers better."   
  
Snape crossed his arms and then said, "That's true. Should we create an alibi for him to offer to the rest of his Housemates?"  
  
A sudden blazing pain screamed through his arm and he jerked his right hand down onto his left forearm. Blinking away tears that should never have sprung to his eyes in the first place, he turned around and sought Snape's gaze, hoping that he didn't look too desperate for an explanation.  
  
"The Dark Mark," Snape hissed, rubbing his hand back and forth over it as if all he wanted to do was scratch it.  
  
"What should I do?" demanded Draco in a louder than normal tone.   
  
The Potions Master's mind worked frantically for a moment and then he said, "Of course, Lucius wouldn't have instructed you in what to do when it burns..." He trailed off and turned to Dumbledore, "He cannot go to Voldemort, but it will continue calling him until he does."  
  
"What about your potion? Will it work?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, "But I do not know if I have a fresh batch prepared."  
  
"You do," Bailey replied smoothly, although a hint of blush was rising to her cheeks, "I went looking for it yesterday." She gave no explanation as to why she had gone looking, and Snape seemed to understand.  
  
"I must go," Snape said to Dumbledore, who nodded, and he strode out of the room, pulling his sleeves down as he went. The female professor followed him presently, off to retrieve the potion, and Draco turned to face Dumbledore.  
  
Silence stretched across the distance between the Headmaster and the student, but it was the silence generated by minds thinking, and neither person felt uncomfortable in maintaining it. Dumbledore spoke first, "You should tell them that you were taken as a Death Eater, and warn them to secrecy. Since none of them have the Dark Mark, they will not know when you are being summoned, and will think that your excuse is true. Give no explanation to the other three houses."  
  
Draco nodded agreement and tried his best to ignore the burning sensation crawling up and down his arm.   
  
Bailey returned promptly, holding a goblet of some strange clear liquid. He accepted it from her and sniffed at before tasting it; although he knew that Snape had made it so there wouldn't be anything wrong with it, he had been bred to smell everything before tasting it. He tipped it back in one gulp, and swayed a little as it took hold of his body. He closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy, and put a hand on the edge of the chair to steady himself. In a moment or two the pain from the Dark Mark decreased, and he realized that his mind had cleared. Cleared of what, he wasn't sure, but he was positive it had something to do with the Dark Mark.   
  
Bailey turned from watching Draco and said to Dumbledore, "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be heading to my quarters." At his consent, she left. Dumbledore stood and with a wave of his wand the extra chairs disappeared. He held out his hand and Fawkes floated over to it, a note of phoenixsong quivering in the air about him.  
  
Draco reached out to touch him and to his surprise the large bird ducked its head beneath his fingers, much as a cat would do when it wanted to be petted. "Not many phoenixes like young students," Dumbledore stated amiably. "Obviously Fawkes is the exception, but a few months ago he would not have come near you. Do you know why?"  
Fawkes cocked one eye in his direction and Draco ran his hand along his slender neck, being careful not to ruffle feathers. "Would it have something to do with the Imperious curse?" he asked carefully.  
  
"Partly. It would have to do with the Dark Magic surrounding the curse... and the Dark Magic surrounding you. Because of who you are, you will always have a Darker aura than many around you." He said this cryptically, almost as if he expected that Draco wouldn't understand.  
  
"Because of how I was brought up or because of my heritage?" He asked.  
  
"Both. Your father may have put several charms on you when you were younger; I have reason to suspect that he wished that Voldemort would take you as his own at a young age, not realizing that Harry Potter would be Voldemort's downfall. You were marked for a dark life, Draco, but this does not mean that you need to follow one." Dumbledore placed Fawkes gently onto Draco's arm and stepped back; Draco was surprised at how light the bird was.   
  
"Do you believe in destiny, Professor?" He asked, still stroking the bird. "That everyone has their path set out before them, and that they will follow that path to their death?" He hadn't intended to get into a philosophical debate with the Headmaster, but now that he was here...  
  
"I believe that everyone has paths set out before them, yes." He stroked his beard thoughtfully and continued, "But I do not believe that everyone will choose the correct path, or that no matter how hard they try to escape it, they cannot leave their path. Your path is yours alone to decide."  
  
Draco looked away for a moment, from both the phoenix and from Dumbledore, and muttered, "Sometimes I feel that I'm being shuttled down this path, whether it is the right one or not. It is the only one I can find."  
  
"I would rather be lost in the woods than be on a dangerous path," Dumbledore argued.  
  
"I would rather return to civilization via the dangerous path than remain lost," Draco countered. "There's always a chance that I will find my life out there in civilization, rather than create a new life with the squirrels." He set Fawkes on his perch and, turning back to Dumbledore, said simply, "May I go now?"  
  
Odd how he had managed to turn that harmless statement into an insult.  
  
"Are you returning to your common room?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well. Go then." Dumbledore's sharp eyes followed Draco as he stepped onto the moving stairs. Those eyes reminded him vaguely of another time and place, when a pair of red eyes were watching and seeing directly into his mind and soul... He brushed that thought away and headed for the Slytherin common room. Memories would have to wait until he had immersed himself in the Slytherin lifestyle again.  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: This was an extremely long and unwieldy chapter, being more than five pages longer than the previous chapters. There was a lot of information in this chapter, sorry if your minds are reeling from all the info buildup. I'm sure that all of the characters seem a bit out of character, and I'm trying to find this perfect balance between my perspective on them and JKR's previously set ideas. I'll be changing Malfoy a lot, but hopefully I'll still have enough sarcasm in him that e seems real.   
If you have questions, post them or Email me and I'll get back to you. The next few chapters will cover a span of almost a month (if things go according to plan) and pretty soon Christmas will be upon the characters! *Starts wracking brain over gifts that characters can give each other…* 


	21. Elemental

Chapter 20: Elemental  
  
Oddly enough, things went back to normal--well, as normal as could be after those events. Malfoy and Dumbledore had created a story of sorts to spread around his Slytherin friends, but Harry didn't hear what exactly was spreading. Whatever it was it must have had the Slytherins scared into not speaking about it. Draco returned to his normal sarcastic self by Tuesday's Potions class, but there seemed to be some spark vacant from Draco's eyes as he snapped something about Harry being rescued by his girlfriend.  
With Summer taking over Snape's classes, they were much more enjoyable. She tried her best to continue the same level of Potion-making, but she was not as gifted at teaching potions as Snape was, and several times she had tried to help someone and her help had backfired. Neville and Bailey had both walked out of that class with burnt eyebrows.  
Arlé received varied responses to her abilities. Several people had gone up to her and asked her if she could show it to them, and she had obliged with a blush. But others seemed to be afraid of her, almost as if they expected her to combust into flames at any given moment. One first year Ravenclaw had even splashed a cup of water into her face in panic. "As if that would help," she remarked to Harry. "I could burn this whole place down if I had a mind to, whether the lake had been relocated inside Hogwarts or not."  
But other than that, nothing had changed.   
Professor Bailey hadn't approached him again about bringing him to see Sirius; Harry had the distinct impression that the teachers were hoping that he would forget about wanting to go visit his Godfather...   
Harry was thoroughly surprised at lunch on Friday when Professor Dumbledore stood up and made an announcement. "After lunch is over, could all fifth, sixth, and seventh years please report to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom? No need to see your regular teacher for this period; they have all been notified and many of them will be in the Dark Arts classroom with you. First through fourth years will report to the Dark Arts classroom Monday morning, first period. Thank you."  
The hall was buzzing; what mysterious things could Bailey be getting ready for this assembly? Fred and George, laughing the entire way, had decided that she was getting together a large colony of Cornish pixies to show them how to properly take care of them; at the next table over, someone was shouting that she was going to have them dueling against large groups. Ron and Hermione were not speculating at all; they were content to listen to the other ideas.  
He noticed that Arlé was not at lunch; this came as no surprise since she was probably helping Summer prepare for whatever she was planning for after lunch. She often came to him after and before classes, just to snuggle for one moment before getting on with life. He looked forward to these moments with great anticipation; they had only been late to class once, and that was because they had actually fallen asleep on the hard chairs after his Transfiguration class. McGonogall had not been pleased but had not taken off any points for their transgression.  
He walked down to the Defense classroom after lunch and looked around eagerly for any sight of her. He noted with dismay that Draco and his group were already in the classroom and had situated themselves in the back. Hermione pointed out that there were some chairs off to one side that were vacant, and the trio walked over to them and waited for the other students to arrive. Suddenly the lights dimmed; Bailey had shut the shades with a flick of her wand so that the only light was being given off by various candles around the room.  
After nearly five minutes of waiting, Bailey closed the door, making sure that all of the students were accounted for. There were six or seven teachers against the wall closest to the door. Flitwick was standing on a pile of books to peer over the heads of the students, and Madame Hooch was standing on the floor beside him.  
Professor Bailey calmly walked to the front of the room and grasped a candle; she held it out and up, and the whispers were quickly silenced. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but she seemed to be younger than her age with the candle before her. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked around, and Harry wondered how she could look so calm while her friend was off on a mission that could not have waited for the weekend.   
"I have brought you all here to explain something to you." Her voice echoed strangely in the room, and she waited until the last faint echoes had died down before continuing, "This will not be easy for many of you to understand; for many of you, this will merely reinforce your opinions. But a select few will change your minds, and that is all I would wish to do. But all of you have a right to know this regardless."  
She motioned to the front of the crowd and four people stood and detached themselves. Harry recognized Arlé, but did not know the other three people.  
"May I introduce to you Zara Patterson." The woman immediately beside Arlé waved, stepping forward to accept the recognition. Zara had casual brown eyes, plain brown hair, and light blue robes on. Her hand, which was casually stroking the slender wand at her side, sported long blue nails, and her hair was pushed out of her face by a Muggle bandana, also blue.  
"Peter Czewsky." The man directly beside Professor Bailey stepped forward; he was the tallest one up front. He was smiling, showing off two very even rows of teeth, and very clean-shaven. Peter had sparkling hazel eyes and light brown hair.  
"Morgan Andrews-Czewsky, Peter's wife." The third witch seemed not much taller than Arlé. Her large blue eyes seemed out of place in her slightly olive face, and as she turned to mutter something to Arlé, her wild hair shifted and Harry saw what looked like gemstones glinting on her left temple. They were light grey, a peculiar color that seemed able to shift from dark grey like storm clouds to near-white, like nimbus clouds.  
"And of course, you all know Erif Deerflada," Bailey concluded. Bailey had peaked their interest all right; even the Slytherins were leaning toward her a bit, waiting for an explanation.  
Bailey motioned to Arlé, who stepped forward. Her eyes glowed deep red for a moment and then she shot her left hand outward. The candles burst into light, their little flickers morphed into slender swaying columns at the mere motion of her hand. A few people screamed; Ron had grabbed onto Hermione's arm in panic as the Defense classroom was flooded with orangeish light. Harry watched as the light faded from Arlé's eyes, and she blinked a few times before slowly nodding to Bailey. The candles remained at their extended height.  
"We have represented here before us the four Elementals: Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind." Harry had to say that Bailey had planned this perfectly; she now had the rapt attention of all people in the room, students and teachers alike.  
"Erif is a Fire Elemental; her symbol is on her left forearm and is the easiest to identify." Arlé raised her arm, palm outward, and exposed the red mark. The flames stood still on the soft canvas of her arm, but when she moved her hand they danced, drawing a few gasps from the audience. "Fire, also known as Pyr-psyche, is the rarest of all Elementals. There are fifteen registered Elementals in England right now; one Fire, six Water, four Earth and four Wind. That number is not including the half-psychics--people who don't have as much control over the Element, as these four will show."  
A hand was raised from the left side of the room; Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff, asked, "How many half psyches are there?"  
"Around thirty, but there are only three Fires in that group."  
"Professor," Draco drawled, his calm grey eyes staring at Erif as if trying to see through her, "If Erif is the only full Fire Elemental, how did she learn to control all of this?"  
"She learned from a half-Elemental."  
"But, if this teacher was only a half, how could Erif learn the full potential of what she does?"  
Summer looked around and said after a moment's thought, "There are certain instincts that every Elemental has, much as every baby has instincts ingrained into them. It just takes tutoring to master these instincts, and you need the same amount of tutoring to control the instincts whether you are whole or half."  
After pausing for a long moment to make sure that Malfoy had no more questions, Bailey continued, "While many witches and wizards believe that there is a stone or piece of jewelry that contains all of an Elemental's power, there is no such item. An Elemental's power is drawn from within and instead of being channeled through their wand, it is channeled directly through their mind."  
"Then what is the use of having a mark on your arm?" Malfoy's voice asked from the back of the room.  
"It is used to identify yourself to others and sometimes it is used as a ground. Oddly enough, a few Elementals funnel their energy through their symbol, but I've been told that it is painful to do so."  
"Does it ever hurt?" A Ravenclaw seventh-year asked.  
Summer was about to speak, but Arlé held out her arm and the teacher seceded the floor to her for a moment. "Do you mean the mark or using our psyche?"   
"Both," the Ravenclaw responded.  
"When I get the mark wet, it stings a like an open cut. But when I use my psyche, the fire will never hurt me."  
"Does that mean that you can walk through fire without getting burnt?"  
"Not at all. It's rather complicated to explain, but in certain situations I can be burnt by fire." She looked back to Bailey after the Ravenclaw sat down.  
"Fire Elementals often have 'side effects' of their Elements. Each Elemental is modeled after an animal. Fire's animal is the phoenix." Hushed whispers chased each other around the room; it appeared that the implication was not lost on the older years. "This gives many, but not all, Fire Elementals the odd ability of being able to speak and comprehend any language. Many other aspects of being a phoenix can be rendered into a fire Elemental, as well. It is even rumored that Rowena Ravenclaw's prodigy could change into a phoenix on command, but he is the only one recorded to do so."  
Silence met this last statement as the students processed what she had just stated. Harry noticed that more of them were staring at Arlé with awe rather than horror, an improvement that pleased him immensely.   
A few more questions were asked and answered, and once everyone was finished with their questions, the tall man stepped up beside Arlé. He winked at her once and then cocked his head slightly toward Summer, in anticipation of what she was about to say.  
Hermione leaned over and whispered, "I think that he's the Earth Elemental; I've heard that most of them are men."  
Ron squinted at Peter and stated, "I don't know. He doesn't look like an earthy type to me."  
There was a flash as Arlé cupped her hands and lit a small fire within her palms. She glanced toward Summer expectantly and the teacher began speaking again.   
"Another specialty that all Elementals possess is the power to Crystallize." She motioned to Peter, who nodded, still grinning brightly, and he formed a rough diamond with his pointer fingers and thumbs. He concentrated within his fingers and something grew, bubbling out of nowhere. It was a beautiful shade of blue, and was nearly transparent.  
He opened his hands and the shimmer of blue became a wave of water, which splashed against Arlé's hands and made her fire sizzle wildly for a moment.   
"He's a water Elemental!" Hermione said, dismayed that she had guessed wrong.  
With a faint pop the Elements froze in place, a splash of water rising up from one side of the fire. Arlé plucked it out of the air and handed this "sculpture" to Peter, who offered it to the nearest Ravenclaw sitting in the front row. She accepted it with gentle hands and gasped, "It's so cold!"   
This broke the spell of silence over the students and the Ravenclaws nearest her reached out and touched it. Then a brave Hufflepuff took control of it and it migrated around the room.   
"It's light as a feather," Ron said when it got around to the Gryffindors, "but it looks like it should be heavier."  
"This is a Crystallization. This happens when two Elements created or controlled by Elementals touch each other. It does not happen very often, but when it does, it happens on a near-cataclysmic scale. The last time this occurred on a large scale was in 1492, right before Columbus sailed to America. The princess of France, who was an elemental, had a temper tantrum on the Santa Maria and delayed his trip nearly a month; of course, this led him to Spain to search for a different source of money."  
She waited for the Crystallization to go around the room and then let the two Elementals release it. It unformed in Crabbe's hands, and he nearly dropped it; or would have dropped it, had the elements not retreated back to their creators. The water splashed against Peter's hand and was absorbed by it, and Harry noticed for the first time that something blue was flicking on the man's arm. As the man dropped his arm, the blue light faded from sight beneath his sleeve.  
"Peter is a Water Elemental, as you saw before," Bailey began. "The other three Elementals are not as dangerous or as hard to control as Fire Elementals; therefore, they are not as rare."  
"You mentioned an animal that each Elemental was modeled after," A Hufflepuff asked carefully. "Which is the Water Elemental's animal?"  
"Oddly enough, a dolphin, although you wouldn't think so at first sight. Most Water Elementals have light and cheerful personalities… which can get annoying at times." Bailey looked over at Peter, whose willing smile reflected that this was, indeed, the case. "Peter is a fine swimmer, as well." Peter's hazel eyes danced with some contained joke, and he flicked his eyes to the side to look at Morgan, who rolled her eyes and then lightly shoved him. It was easy to like these two, Harry noted; their light-hearted joking brought life to the room.  
"Peter has a Water Symbol on his right forearm; unlike the Fire symbol, this one stays hidden until he actively uses it. He channels his energies through his sign whenever he needs to used them."  
There were a few questions and then Peter stepped back. Morgan stepped forward, her head slightly tilted to one side. She rubbed at her temple in a circular motion and then raised her hand. Her fingers glinted with sparkle for a moment and then a wind rose up; it was a warm, balmy wind, much like the last of the summer's breeze. A hint of burning wood was carried on the breeze, and it was obvious that she was creating the wind, as the windows were closed.  
She clenched her hand and then snow began to fall. A giggle came from a Ravenclaw girl, and the wind stopped.   
Bailey explained, "Morgan is a Wind Elemental, although you could say that she can control any weather conditions. She has three diamond studs in her temple, which are grey and quite cool to the touch. As you probably noticed, she activates her Elemental powers by touching the studs. Her animal design is the falcon… And Morgan is an Animagi." The large blue eyes were the only thing that didn't change as she morphed into a small peregrine falcon. The peregrine floated up to land on her husband's outstretched arm, and wrapped her talons about his wrist carefully.   
"Can she still control her Elements while in that form?" Draco was being mighty inquisitive, Harry noted, and turned about to look at the Slytherin. He was leaning on his knee with one elbow, one heel balancing on the seat of the chair beside him. His eyes never left Bailey's face, a fact that bothered Harry. This subtle change in the way he handled himself only reinforced the things that Dumbledore had told them.  
"As long as she activated it before she transformed, yes," Bailey answered. As if to prove that she could, Morgan spread her wings and it began to snow. Harry turned back to watch Draco again, and found himself subject to those grey eyes. There was no hatred reflected back at him… just a cold disregard, as if he were admiring something that he could never really understand.  
Ron and Hermione were rapt with attention as the bird transfigured back to her original form, but Harry was watching the fourth person's face. Zara was watching with her fingers wrapped around her wand, tapping lightly against the wooden handle. Her brown eyes had a glint of something familiar as she looked across the small crowd, but Harry couldn't place it. As Bailey announced Zara's name, her smile reminded him of someone else yet again.  
"Zara is a Earth Elemental; easily the subtlest Element of all. Her mark is a little fern tattooed into the palm of her hand." Zara held out her hand and gave everyone a good look; it appeared more like a squiggle than a fern, but Harry guessed that upon further inspection you might be able to identify it. "Her animal namesakes are the gryphons, who care for their earth even more than humans do. Although many see gryphons up in the sky and characterize them with the Wind Elemental, they prefer to remain firmly on the ground when possible. All Earth Elementals can conjure up sunlight without the use of the wand, and they can easily contain energy within themselves. As with plants, sunlight is the main drive to their energies. Earth Elementals can rapidly speed up the growth of any plant; many of them can slow down the metabolism as well. And Earth Elementals require lots of household plants in their environment."  
"Can you transfigure into a gryphon?" asked one hopeful Ravenclaw of the Earth Elemental.  
"I wish I could," she sighed. "But I can't." Her hand slid up and down her wand once more and then caught at the tassels of her belt. She was nervous, but of what?  
There were a few questions of the Earth Elemental, but Harry didn't hear them because he had leaned over Ron and asked Hermione a question. "Does she look familiar to you?"   
Hermione squinted at the Earth Elemental and sighed. "She does look familiar, but I don't think I've ever seen her before."  
"Wait, I know," Ron hissed. "She looks like Rita Skeeter!"  
They all glanced up at her and then Hermione nodded. "I see the resemblance; she might be a sister or a cousin."  
"I'd rather not think about the idea that there are more people like Rita Skeeter running around!" Ron yelped, remembering with some frustration the events of last year.  
Rita Skeeter had turned Harry and his two friends' lives into a game of dodgeball; using her unreported Animagi form, a beetle, she managed to learn a great deal more about Harry, Ron, and Hermione than they wanted her to. In fact, she had decided that Harry had a crush on Hermione, and had created an elaborate story about Hermione going out with Krum. That had been a disaster that they were still trying to mop up; Hermione had gotten so many Howlers from Harry's manic fans that she had had to stop all incoming mail before someone decided to cast curses on her.   
"Actually," the Earth Elemental was saying, "several of us can control weather or water as well."  
"I heard," drawled Draco Malfoy yet again, "that all of the great wandmakers—Ollivander included—are Earth Elementals. Is that true?"  
Zara nodded. "Ollivander is a strong Earth Elemental—he'd have to be, to know exactly what goes into each wand that he makes. The official WandMaker for Durmstrang is a strong Elemental, and one I know personally."   
"Do you make wands?" Hermione asked, dropping her previous conversation for curiosity.  
At this, Zara chuckled. Behind her Peter chortled into his hand, wrinkling his nose a little at the concept.  
"Heavens, no!" Zara sighed, still smiling. "If I did, many wizards and witches would be blown up by their own wands. You need the right temperament to create wands… Trust me, I've tried. The wands that you create take on a bit of your personality, so you need to be a calm and laid back person or the wands would be skittish!  
"To be perfectly honest, though, I did create my own wand when I graduated from Hogwarts. A bit of a mistake, that was. A lot of unlucky people had odd hexes placed on them by accident…" She trailed off for a moment, her eyes alight with laughter and then continued, "I trust Ollivander's wands much more than I trust my own!"  
"And as you should, Zara," Peter stated. "I was one of the 'unlucky' ones, after all!"  
There were no more questions, and as Harry sneaked a glance at Malfoy, the Slytherin boy leaned over to lightly touch Pansy on the arm and whisper something to her. She giggled and motioned for Draco to lean in a little closer; he obliged. Harry turned away quickly, not wanting to be caught looking up at them.  
Bailey raised her wand and the shades covering the windows each slowly slid up; the students were blinded for a moment by the bright sunlight flooding into the classroom. "If any of you would like to speak further with the Elementals, you may do so at this time. If not, then you are free to go." She then merged back to stand with the Elementals, who were still idly gossiping about the "unlucky ones."   
Apparently, all three of the older Elementals had gone to Hogwarts at about the same time, and were now sharing stories of the wonders of returning to Hogwarts after so many years of being away from it. Although Peter looked the eldest of the three, he and Zara were actually the same age. As Harry and his friends approached, along with a few of the Hufflepuffs and some of the Ravenclaws, Arlé reached out and took Harry's hand. Her fingers were warm but oddly dry, and Harry squeezed her fingers gently.  
"I can still remember the time you meant to turn me into a frog…" Peter broke off with laughter that did remind Harry of a dolphin.  
"And I turned you into a ferret; how could I forget? That was what made me change my mind about my wand."  
"I loved it," Morgan tittered, stroking Peter's arm as if consoling him. "The idea of a little creature that could bow down and kiss my feet at any moment was quite appealing!"  
"I'm mortified," Peter chuckled, "Entirely mortified, and I daresay it's your fault, Zara, that I'm married to such a controlling monster in the first place!"  
"I know what you mean when you say mortifying," a soft voice stated from behind Harry. Harry turned to see Draco, standing alone and apart from the group, with a smile almost touching his mouth. "Becoming a ferret is hardly a fun experience!"  
"Ah, here's a young man who understands!" Peter cried, stepping aside so that Draco could join the rough circle. "You seem to know quite a bit. What's your name, son?"  
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Harry thought that Draco's eyes twitched a little in Ron's direction as he said this proudly.   
"Ah, so you're Lucius' kid. That explains it." Draco pulled away from him slightly, one eyebrow cocking in inquiry. "Not that that's a bad thing," Peter quickly said. "I work with him in the Ministry." Harry noted that Peter didn't say anything either for or against Draco's father, something that seemed to surprise Draco.   
For a moment—just one moment—Draco let his guard down and Harry could see something in his grey eyes. Then they flicked back to their normal opaque state, making Harry think of a window with its shade being drawn down. The Slytherin boy nodded, his façade plain and uncontorted.  
The silence seemed to beckon a change in subject; one Ravenclaw seemed interested in learning how much training they had to go through, and the three elder Elementals jumped readily onto this new path. Arlé looked at Harry and motioned with her head that she wanted to leave. As they left the cluster, Ron made to follow them, but Hermione's gentle hand stayed him. Harry could just barely hear her whisper, "Let them alone, Ron…" and then he was out of hearing range.   
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, catching and entwining his fingers in hers.  
"I feel like everyone's watching me," she sighed. "I'm just glad this is over." She smiled at him, her eyes bright.  
"You'll always feel that way, I suspect. Everyone will be watching you just because you are my girlfriend…"  
"I know... It doesn't make it any easier, though." She sighed again and ran a finger along his jawline. "They are a fascinating bunch... I've been spending quite a bit of time with them lately, getting accustomed to them. Zara bothers me, though... Something about her just isn't right."   
Harry nodded, and as they turned back to the group, Malfoy stepped up to them. His grey eyes bore into Arlé for a moment, and then he flicked them back to Harry. "Interesting girlfriend, Potter," was all he said, and then he stepped past them without another word. Arlé glared at his retreating back until he left the room, and then rolled her eyes.   
"Typical Slytherin. Come on, let's head back to the Common Room," she suggested. Ron and Hermione agreed to return to the Common Room, and Arlé caught Summer's eye with a look that clearly said, "I'll come find you later."  
Summer called, "We'll be in my office," and then returned to speaking with the cluster of students and Elementals.  
  
  
**Author's Notes...** Well, here it is! After five months of severe dyslexia, term paper, and writer's block, I've managed to finish this chapter! I'm amazed at myself!! *Pats herself on back* It was another bear, because it's always hard to define something that I've created to the depth that this chapter required... I had to think up questions that my readers might have, and that the students in Hogwarts might have... Hopefully I answered many of them! Well, I can't make any promises, but I'm aiming to get the next chapter started right now. I need to reorganize my thoughts a little before I can continue, and tie up some loose ends. Any suggestions or things that are unclear, please don't hesitate to ask them.Thank you much for reading! 


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